I Will Come For You
by Priestess Mayumi
Summary: "Following months of wrongfully blaming the man for his parents' deaths, any hatred that Harry had felt for Sirius Black disappeared when Ron's rat transformed back into Peter Pettigrew; the empty space in his heart that the hate had occupied filled up with love the very instant that Sirius had asked his incredulous godson to come and live with him."
1. A Marauder's Oath

Harry Potter was on Cloud Nine. He hadn't been so giddy with excitement since Gryffindor's winning of the House Cup his first year. Nothing could ruin the thirteen—nearly fourteen—year-old boy's good mood. Not Uncle Vernon snapping at him for humming in the car. Not Aunt Petunia rolling her eyes and looking physically pained at having to pull out another plate for dinner. Not even Dudley trying to trip him down the stairs as he lugged his school trunk up to his room. Harry didn't even bother to unpack. He could live out of his trunk for a few weeks.

One month, and then Harry wouldn't have to see the Dursley's for a whole year. He would only have to endure one month of their insults and drudgery. After that, Sirius was coming to get him.

Sirius Black, his godfather. Harry smiled so big that his face ached. For twelve years, Harry had dreamed that a long-lost relative would appear and take him away from the prison that was 4 Privet Drive. Even though he'd gone nine years without a cake or candles, Harry still made a birthday wish every July 31st, spending them all on this one far-fetched hope. Even after coming to Hogwarts, Harry had continued to wish. He loved his school, but knew he couldn't stay there during the summer.

After so many years of this pipe dreaming, his dream had finally come to life in the form of a large, black dog Animagus. Following months of wrongfully blaming the man for his parents' deaths, any hatred that Harry had felt for Sirius Black disappeared when Ron's rat transformed back into Peter Pettigrew; the empty space in his heart that the hate had occupied filled up with love the very _instant_ that Sirius had asked his incredulous godson to come and live with him. A home and a family had been the deepest desires of the young wizard's heart since ever he could remember. They'd known each other for an hour, and Sirius Black had already offered him more than the Dursleys—his blood relatives—had in over a decade. Harry had been so ecstatic that he'd wanted to move in with Sirius immediately.

There were snags to this plan. Even after Harry and Hermione had used the time turner to capture Peter Pettigrew and prove Sirius's innocence, Dumbledore still wouldn't allow Harry's godfather to take him right away.

" _Where are you planning on taking him, Sirius? You know that Grimmauld Place is no home for a boy."_

 _Grumbling, Sirius had conceded the headmaster's point. "I'll find a house."_

" _It isn't that easy, Sirius."_

 _Dumbledore had then explained the blood wards around 4 Privet Drive. Until he turned seventeen, Harry needed to call the house of Lily's flesh and blood his home, or else be at the mercy of Voldemort's leftover supporters._

 _But Sirius was stubborn. Harry's face had flushed with bashful pride as his godfather argued with the headmaster for nearly two hours._ _ **He's fighting for the right to take me with him.**_ _The Boy-Who-Lived had never experienced such powerful devotion before, and he loved Sirius all the more for it. Finally, Dumbledore had given in._

" _He needs to spend half of his summer at the Dursley's in order for the blood wards to remain effective. One month; that should give you enough time to find a suitable residence, Sirius."_

 _Even then, Sirius had tried to argue the four weeks down to two. Dumbledore remained adamant that one month a year was the bare minimum. Finally, Harry's godfather had been pacified by the promise of taking his godson home for Christmas. "It's only right he spend his holidays with me!" the escapee insisted. "I'm his guardian, by Merlin!"_

 _Harry had grinned broadly at that, and later asked Sirius to sign his permission slip for the Hogsmeade trips. It was silly that such a little thing had given both wizards so much pleasure, but it was the first act of parental love that Harry had received in twelve years. And after more than a decade in Azkaban, Sirius had been delighted to do something for Harry._

" _One month," Sirius had sworn. "On my honor as a Marauder, not a day more."_

Harry could hardly wait. For the first time in his life, he would have a real family to spend the summer with.

"Boy!" he heard Uncle Vernon call loudly. "Get down here!"

 _Just a month._ Harry fortified himself with that thought and marched down the stairs and into the kitchen. The teenager was surprised to see the table laid out with healthy foods. He'd never seen so many greens on the Dursley's table. There wasn't an artery-clogging dish in sight. Although he was curious, Harry knew better than to ask about the strange meal. In the end, he didn't even have to.

"Mum I _hate_ this diet!" Dudley cried in disgust, flipping his chair over to punctuate his statement. "I feel like I'm going to die!"

"I know, Diddykins. I know," Aunt Petunia crooned soothingly, picking up Dudley's chair and setting it upright before gently putting her hands on Dudley's shoulders to ease him into his seat. "I'll give you extra big portions to make up for it, sweetheart."

"How long are planning to feed us this rabbit food, Petunia?" Uncle Vernon growled, scowling at the heaping, colorful piles on his plate. "It's barely enough to keep a man alive!"

Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for the distressed, pinched expression that filled his aunt's face. The middle-aged woman's features became heavy and she bit her bottom lip. "I know it's hard for you, Vernon dear. It's doubly hard for our son. He's still a growing boy who needs nutrition." Petunia tilted the food vessels slightly when spooning for Dudley, ensuring that as much of the food ended up on her son's plate as possible.

When she dished for Harry, however, Petunia set the dishes upright again, scooped up single spoonfuls, and plopped them down on the plate disdainfully. She shoved the dish into Harry's hands, and the thirteen-year-old looked down at the meager helpings in disappointment. This was even less than he was given normally.

Vernon may or may not have noticed his expression, but his next comment rubbed salt into Harry's wounds anyway. "Don't get too comfortable, boy," the overweight man snapped with a mouth half full. "You're back to cooking tomorrow."

Harry nodded and took his plate over to the kitchen counter, eating in silence while his aunt fussed over Dudley and his uncle continued to complain about the food and about the "incompetents" at work. The young wizard ate slowly; if the entire household was expected to conform to Dudley's diet, he would have to make what little sustenance he received last as long as possible.

Trying to focus on something else, Harry allowed his mind to drift back to Sirius. Who would do the cooking at their new home? He decided that he didn't mind cooking, as long as it was for his godfather. Harry could do the household chores in lieu of the rent he owed his guardian. But what did Sirius like to eat? As a dog Animagus, Harry concluded that his godfather was likely not a vegetarian. The dark-haired teenager began to plan out a balanced menu, trying to guess what dishes would be both cost-effective and delicious. His glance flickered across the counter to the dining room where his "family" was seated, and the ghost of a smile touched Harry's lips. Sirius would definitely let his godson eat at the table alongside him. They were a _real_ family, after all.

* * *

The weeks passed in routine, predictable agony. Harry was kept a prisoner at 4 Privet Drive, allowed to leave the house only to weed the garden or stay with Mrs. Figg when the Dursleys went on a family outing. Harry was used to this state of affairs by now. Wake up early, do chores, go to bed late…it had been the same old story since the half-blood wizard was old enough to walk. During the few respites from his chores, or when his task was so mindless that he could allow his imagination to wander, Harry did nothing but think of his new home.

That was what he was doing one night after two weeks at the Dursley's. The family was downstairs watching a movie and Harry had been banished to his room, not that he minded. The green-eyed teen was flipping through a _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine that he had rescued from the trash—only half-paying attention to the intricately decorated rooms and yards—and eating from his secret food supply.

As distasteful as it was to agree with Uncle Vernon, the man had a point about Dudley's diet: it was barely enough food to survive on, especially with the small portions that Harry was given. However, as the one doing the cooking, he was in a prime position to sneak a little extra food to hide under the loose floorboard in his room. This collection of culinary odds and ends was supplemented by a supply of sweets from Honeydukes and whatever he had been able to save from the End-of-Term Feast. It wasn't much, but it gave Harry enough energy to perform his chores and survive until the next mealtime.

Thinking about the second half of his summer was the best distraction from the constant ache in his stomach. The young wizard's mind was filled with curiosity. How big was the house going to be? Would it really be in the country? Someplace where the sky was open and clear enough to see the stars at night? Would the house be eerily pristine like 4 Privet Drive, or would it have the cluttered, lived-in feel of the Burrow? Somehow, Sirius didn't strike Harry as a neat freak, so his mental picture erred on the side of the latter. Harry was excited to have his own room; a room that wasn't given to him out of paranoia or pity, but one that was _rightfully_ his. Would Sirius allow him to decorate his room? To hang Gryffindor banners and photographs on the walls, something the Dursleys had expressly forbade? Would he be allowed to have friends over?

The realization that he knew so little about Sirius Black—about the man's temperament or tastes—made Harry uneasy. He had spent a lifetime tailoring his words and actions to what he thought people wanted to hear. But he didn't know how to act around his godfather, and that made him nervous. What if he slipped up and made Sirius mad enough to send him back to the Dursley's? The idea was unbearable. Harry made up his mind to use his best behavior, to be a flawless houseguest. He would give Sirius Black absolutely no reason to want him gone.

He was so lost in these thoughts that when his door was flung open and slammed against the wall, Harry jumped up from his place on the floor, a half-eaten licorice wand still in his mouth.

"I KNEW it!" Venon pointed a finger accusingly at his nephew, even more unpleasant than usual due to the family's dietary changes. "You've been cheating all this while, stuffing yourself with sweets while the rest of us have to suffer!"

Harry quickly sucked the remaining licorice into his mouth, swallowing it in one gulp. He didn't know why Uncle Vernon had suspected him or for how long, but the overweight businessman's face was becoming puffy and red, a sign that the green-eyed boy was in deep trouble. Still, Harry couldn't stop a bitter retort from slipping past his lips. "You can't expect me to do the chores _and_ go hungry!"

"You'll have to find a way to make do, you ungrateful little brat!" Vernon snapped, the scarlet coloring on his face spreading to his ears. "You're lucky we give you the food off of our table at all!"

"It isn't my fault that Dudley is overweight!" Harry countered, tired of being guilt-tripped, of being told how much it cost to keep him, of the Dursleys taking out their frustrations on him. The malnourished throbbing in his head wasn't helping him keep his temper in check. "Maybe you should make _him_ do some of the chores. He'd lose the pounds faster."

Vernon's face turned from red to purple, and Harry realized too late what a horrible mistake he had made. "Why you…!" Vernon reached down to unbuckle his belt. "I'll teach you to talk to me that way!"

A tremor of fear ran through the young wizard's body. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia almost _never_ raised a hand to him. They hadn't done so since he was a child; he'd become smart enough to avoid the smacks they tried to give him, and the Dursley adults for their part didn't want anyone gossiping about Harry more than they already did. Petunia contented herself with ignoring her nephew's existence, and harsh words had been enough for Vernon, until now. The angry walrus of a man was advancing on his nephew, unchecked fury on full display in his features. Harry brought up his arms to defend himself and, in a moment of crazy self-preservation, he allowed a sentence to slip from his lips before he could consider its consequences: "I'll tell Sirius!"

His frantic gambit caught Vernon's attention. The man's color paled and the arm he had raised to strike his nephew relaxed a bit. "What did you say, boy?" he demanded quietly, his severe tone colored by fear.

Harry lowered the shield of his arms slightly so that he could look Vernon in the eyes. "Sirius Black. You remember him from the news last summer? The escaped criminal? Well, it turns out that he's my godfather." The teenager tried to read Vernon's expression, but the man was too stunned at the moment to react. "He's got a violent temper, and if he finds out that you struck me, I won't be able to stop him from retaliating." Harry didn't know if any of that was true, and it was a bit ungrateful to call his only family a criminal and claim such wicked things about him when he hardly even knew the man. But Sirius _had_ come off as hot-headed during the confrontation with Snape, and he _had_ been ready to kill Peter Pettigrew to avenge Harry and his parents.

Vernon's eyes widened and he snapped his belt in the air. "Are you threatening me, boy?"

Harry forced himself to keep eye contract with his burly uncle, willing his voice not to falter when he replied, "No. I'm _warning_ you."

That did the trick. Vernon backed away from Harry cautiously, as though any minute his young wizard nephew would morph into the psychotic serial killer and rain down hot vengeance upon 4 Privet Drive. The businessman fumbled putting his belt back on and muttered, not looking at Harry directly, "Don't let me catch you eating up here again." Vernon waddled out of the room backwards, afraid to turn his back to Harry, and slammed the door shut after himself. Harry stood in stunned silence for several minutes, just staring at the door, before a smile crept over his features.

It was nice to have a slightly-insane wizard for a godfather.

* * *

Two more weeks passed. Harry sensed that Uncle Vernon had said something to Aunt Petunia about their confrontation, as his chore load had been lightened and both adults allowed him to take bigger portions at mealtime. Harry's helpings still weren't as large as Dudley's, but at least his stomach wasn't constantly growling in protest anymore.

Ever since blackmailing his uncle with the truth about Sirius Black, all of the Dursleys had kept their distance from Harry. Dudley wouldn't even think about getting close enough to beat up on his cousin and neither Vernon nor Petunia said anything impolite to him. Their conversations with the young wizard consisted mostly of one or two-word phrases. Honestly, being ignored by the Dursley family this way was an improvement.

The remainder of the month was uneventful: the same routine of chores and sleep, though Harry noticed he was being given more free time in between tasks. And then finally, _the day_ arrived.

Harry was up at dawn, not tired despite the very little sleep he'd gotten. Hedwig, sensing his excitement, began to stir eagerly in her cage, and Harry had to motion at her to hush. Quietly, so as not to wake the Dursleys, he crept from his bed, dressed quickly, and began to pack. The only objects he'd removed from his trunk were clothes, personal hygiene items, a few spell books, and a picture of his parents, so the packing didn't take long. Harry moved the trunk right next to his door so that he would be able to quickly grab it when Sirius came. The teenager knew his godfather probably wouldn't arrive until later in the day, but he didn't want to spend a second longer in this house than he had to.

His task complete, Harry flopped back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, not in the mood for sleep. _Finally, I'm going to be free,_ he thought with a smile. True, he still had to spend three more half-summers with the Dursleys, but other than that, he would never have to step foot in this house again if he didn't want to. Harry considered skipping his chores on this last day, but came to the conclusion that Vernon would certainly get him back next year if he even tried. Besides, one more day wouldn't kill him.

Harry spent the next few hours fidgeting, glancing nervously at the clock every ten minutes or so, whispering to Hedwig about the future, and listening eagerly for a knock on the door or the ringing of the doorbell. Neither had come by the time he had to get up and start on breakfast, though he hadn't really expected it.

As the wizard cooked and served the non-magical and nutritious meal, it was clear that the Durselys couldn't sense anything out-of-the-ordinary about this summer day. It was business as usual for them: work, housekeeping, videogames, etc. They could hardly guess that today was one of the most important and happy days of their "freak" relative's life. Harry didn't let on, either. He wouldn't put it past the Dursleys to try to make today miserable if they knew it would be their last chance for a year.

So Harry acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. He toiled away on the housework diligently, even some of the tasks which had been considered "optional" since his chat with Uncle Vernon. It hadn't been a perfect life, or even a happy one, but the Dursleys had kept him in their house and protected him via the blood wards for almost thirteen years. He figured that he should repay them by making the house look nice before he left. The maintenance of 4 Privet Drive would fall completely to Aunt Petunia upon his leaving, which didn't seem quite fair to Harry, but Petunia had never complained about Vernon and Dudley's lack of effort around the house, so it wasn't his place to gripe. Nonetheless, his aunt had always been the "kindest" to him, so lending a hand once more seemed like the least he could do for his mother's beleaguered elder sister.

The day stretched on, and Harry became jumpy at the littlest things. Every time he heard a sound outside the door, he made some excuse to end up by the front windows. After countless false alarms from dogs, cars, motorbikes, and one door-to-door salesman, Petunia had pursed her lips in annoyance and sent Harry to work upstairs. When lunchtime rolled around, he couldn't focus on making food—too intent on watching the front door—until his aunt had closed the door connecting the kitchen with the front hall. By evening when all the chores were finished, dinner was on the table, and Uncle Vernon arrived home from work, Harry had worked himself into a nervous frenzy. Did Sirius know where he lived? What if he had gotten lost? What if he had been attacked by Dementors on his way?

And then, just as the Dursleys were sitting down to eat…the doorbell rang.

Harry nearly tripped over himself running for the door. He ignored the confused shouts of his relatives, only caring about one thing: opening the door. He ran a hand through his messy hair for good measure, put on a huge smile, and flung the door open.

He almost got the wind knocked out of him when a heavy suitcase was flung into his arms. Harry scrambled to get a better hold on the large piece of luggage, peering over the top of it to get a look at the figure standing in the doorway. His heart immediately sank to the bottom of his stomach.

"Marge?" Harry heard Aunt Petunia inquire from behind him. "How lovely to see you! I didn't know you were coming to Surrey." She sounded just as confused as Harry felt.

Uncle Vernon's balloon of a sister pushed past Harry into the house, tugging Ripper behind her. "I was driving back from a breeder's convention when my car broke down a few towns over…"

Harry was in a haze for the rest of their conversation. Marge came into the house, called a tow company, and sat down for dinner, eating his portion of the meal he'd prepared. The blowhard tried to get a rise out of him once or twice, but Harry was too tired and too bitterly disappointed to reply to her taunts. When he had finished cleaning up after dinner, the young wizard went up to his room and flopped face-first down on the bed, willing himself not to cry.

It was only 7:18, but Harry had given up. All of his hopes had been dashed to pieces by the person at the door, who was not his godfather but the insufferable woman who enjoyed making his life miserable. Harry's breaths came in heavy, shuddering sighs that sounded almost like sobbing. He knew exactly what had happened. Sirius had come to his senses and realized that he didn't want a burdensome teenager in his life. Harry could hardly blame him. No adult had ever wanted him, except his parents. That's why he had been stuck with the Dursleys for almost thirteen years. And he'd be trapped there for three more, until the blood wards on 4 Privet Drive broke on his seventeenth birthday. It was so unfair.

Harry Potter thought he had lost his last chance at a real home and a family that loved him. Silent tears rolled down his face and the Boy-Who-Lived cried himself to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Don't worry. This isn't the end. Next time, you'll get the charming, mischievous, devilishly handsome Sirius Black that we've all been waiting for. I hope you enjoyed my first ever Harry Potter fanfiction!


	2. Paradise Lost

Sirius Black's life was a parade of unpredictable mayhem. Every time he had things "figured out", some phenomenal event would come along to turn his world upside down. Going to Hogwarts and joining the Marauders at eleven, being disowned at sixteen, imprisonment in Azkaban at twenty-one and his escape at thirty-three. It could be frustrating, feeling out of control in his own life.

His life hadn't stopped being insane after Pettigrew's arrest either. The rat's capture had, in fact, set off an entire chain of events that had made for one hell of a month.

First was the trial. It was a pretty open-and-shut case; he and the still-very-alive Pettigrew had been given Veritaserum, confirming Sirius's version of the events surrounding James and Lily Potter's deaths. Remus's memories of the night at the Shrieking Shack had also been admitted as evidence, clearly showing Peter's full confession and Sirius's efforts to protect Harry Potter. Upon delivery of a "not guilty" verdict, the Wizengamot and Cornelius Fudge had been forced to make a full apology to Sirius for his wrongful imprisonment and had offered him a large monetary compensation for eleven years in Azkaban, the remaining year being punishment for becoming an unregistered Animagus.

Sirius had accepted the compensation and apologies, but still couldn't forget that twelve years of his life had been stolen illegally. There had been no trial, no use of Veritaserum, and no examination of his memories via Pensieve. Without any chance to defend himself, an innocent man had been tossed into Azkaban for life: one of the most horrifying fates which could befall a wizard. His legal advisor suggested that corruption at the highest levels of wizard government might be to blame for Sirius's ordeal, and they had been working to build a case against the Ministry of Magic. It wasn't about the money, as he had plenty of that to go around; Sirius just didn't want the thoughtless and corrupt extremists that had put him in prison to remain in power. What happened to him couldn't be repeated.

Sirius had never been officially convicted of any crimes. He only came to appreciate this fact the day that Kingsley Shacklebolt visited him at the Leaky Cauldron (he refused to darken the door of 12 Grimmauld Place) to return his wand. It hadn't been destroyed after his seizure, but was kept as evidence for a trial that would never happen. When Sirius touched his wand for the first time in twelve years, he wept for joy. A part of him that had been dead for over a decade sprang to life again. He could feel the magic coursing through his veins, tingling his fingers wherever they came in contact with the wood. Shacklebolt had looked a little shocked when he found himself pulled into a bear hug by the exonerated wizard, but his eyes were filled with compassion and understanding. It was clear what Azkaban had done to Sirius's mental state, and getting his wand—a piece of his identity—back was a significant part of the healing process.

Sirius had another cathartic experience when Remus came by with a box of things that had been recovered from his flat after he'd been arrested. There wasn't much Remus had considered worth saving—Sirius had put most of his valued possessions into Gringotts during the war—but the few items were enough to move the dog Animagus to tears all over again. There was a photograph of him and the Potter Family, the two-way mirrors he and James had used to communicate in school, and a bunch of miscellaneous trinkets tied to the Marauders or the Order. Every item was a memory of happier and wholer times and of people that he would never see again. Even so, he was profoundly grateful to Remus for saving them. This time capsule of the man he once was meant more to him than any gold the Ministry could give him.

Walburga Black had died while her eldest son was in Azkaban, leaving Sirius as sole possessor of the Black Family name. Everything his parents had owned was now his, from their house and everything in it to the entire contents of their vault at Gringotts. Sirius had visited the bank in order to transfer his personal wealth—his inheritance from Uncle Alphard, his wages as an Auror, and his compensation from the Ministry—to the Black Family vault. Never in his wildest dreams could he have guessed what lay inside. Sirius had known that the Blacks were wealthy…but even his active imagination could never have accurately conjured the nearly endless mountains of gold and precious artifacts that now belonged to him. It had even been necessary to place a charm on the doors to prevent the treasure from spilling out. Sirius had leaped into the vault, rolling around in piles of coins and laughing his head off. It wasn't the money itself that gave him joy, nor the thought of buying anything for himself. It was the knowledge that he could spoil his godson as much as he wanted. While Sirius lived, Harry Potter would want for absolutely nothing. And unless the Black's only heir produced a child of his own, whatever remained of this vast fortune upon his death would become Harry's. His green-eyed godson deserved every bit of affection that Sirius could shower on him after the terrible things he had been through: losing his parents, being parceled off to relatives that he obviously didn't like, and the numerous close calls that he'd had with Voldemort during his years at school. Even after such horrible experiences, Harry remained kind, brave, and modest; Sirius had no concerns about indulging his godson a bit.

Exuberant wealth wasn't the only benefit to being a Black. Sirius was surprised to find that there was a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors which belonged to him. Supervising the inner workings of his beloved school—the only place he'd ever felt truly happy—and being involved in Harry's education was a tempting enough opportunity. What sealed the deal was Sirius's revelation that his seat had, in a turn of unbelievable corruption and cronyism, been given to _Lucius Malfoy_ , of all people. Cissy's husband had been the Board's chairman, which meant he had full authority to appoint one of his lackeys to his imprisoned cousin's rightful position, effectively insuring that Lucius's vote would count _twice_. Although he had been removed from his own position following some scandal a while back, his pawn had remained, meaning that Lucius was able to retain power on the board without actually being there. Sirius Black would be damned if he let _Lucius Malfoy_ continue to have that kind of power. Dumbledore had seemed quite pleased by Sirius's acceptance of the position, in opposition to the hags at the _Daily Prophet_ , who couldn't get enough of printing smear pieces about him. Writing the truth—that he had been framed for the murder of his best friends—wouldn't sell papers. Stories about him tampering with the Veritaserum at his trial, bribing the Wizengamot, and planning to train Harry in the Dark Arts did.

His shoddy reputation made it difficult for Sirius to find anyone willing to help him buy a house. Eventually, after countless failed inquiries, he'd come across a relator who was willing to work with anyone if the price was right. The house she found for him was perfect; exactly what he had pictured during his years inside Azkaban. Dumbledore and Remus had aided him in shielding the house with all the protective spells their collective minds could remember, including the Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore had agreed to be their Secret Keeper.

Now, Sirius was about to face the greatest unexpected adventure of his life: living with his godson. He was both excited and anxious and had spent weeks agonizing over every detail, which was uncharacteristic of him. He just wanted to give Harry the life he deserved; the life he would have had but for Sirius's foolish mistake. He only hoped that James and Lily's son would forgive him in time. He could never take the place of a father in the young wizard's life, but Sirius still loved Harry as much as he would his own son. One day, Harry might understand just how deep his feelings ran.

* * *

The fateful day finally arrived and, true to form, it was hectic, just like the rest of Sirius's life. He'd woken up early—early for him anyway, as Sirius Black was decidedly _not_ a morning person—and quickly gotten dressed, not putting much effort into his appearance as he'd have to fix it later anyway. After cooking himself a small breakfast, Sirius went about the task of making sure the house was ready for his godson's arrival. He didn't want it to be creepily spotless like 12 Grimmauld Place; the immaculate cleanliness had always made his parents' house feel even more tomblike than it already was. So he left his dishes in the sink and a bit of natural clutter around the den. Sirius wanted so much for Harry to like the house, so he went over every inch—inside and outside—at least a dozen times to make sure that everything was in place.

When that was finished, he'd gone to Diagon Alley to pick out a housewarming gift for his godson, an errand that took decades longer than he had anticipated. Nothing seemed good enough. Sirius hadn't been a teenager in ages; he wasn't sure what a thirteen-year-old wizard would appreciate. He'd given Harry a broom back at Christmas because he needed one, but now he didn't know what Harry would want or need. After visiting practically every store, he'd come across a fascinating magical object. It was simple and sentimental and had no practical use at all, but it seemed like something that would make Harry feel at home.

After buying the present, Sirius had Flooed straight home to prepare dinner. It was still early in the afternoon, but it would take time to prepare everything, since he planned on cooking by hand. The gray-eyed wizard's reputation for the culinary arts had been notorious among the Order of the Phoenix. Despite his protests and insistence that Lily and Remus could cook just as well, Sirius was always strong-armed into providing refreshments for the Order gatherings. His chocolate cake, in particular, was legendary. He'd perfected the recipe during his time at Hogwarts, in order to help Remus recover after the full moon, and everyone agreed that it was worth killing for.

" _If you made one for Voldemort as a peace offering, you might just end the war, Padfoot!"_ James had joked. It hurt Sirius to think about James, his brother in all but blood. On the rare occasions that he fell asleep in Azkaban—genuinely asleep, not passed out from the dementors' soul-draining—all he saw over and over were the burned remains of Godric's Hollow and his friend's dead body, staring at him in reproach. The ghostly specters of James and Lily tormented his waking moments, accusing him of their betrayal and murder and shouting words hurtful enough to break his defeated heart. Even now, Sirius was mired in guilt for what had happened to the Potters. Hopefully, it wasn't too late to make things right for the youngest one.

Sirius had no idea what Harry liked to eat, so he just made all of James and Lily's favorites, hoping that their appetites had passed down to their child. He charmed the food so that it would stay warm and fresh until mealtime. Now it was time to clean himself up. Sirius went into his bathroom and washed his hands and face, which were speckled with food splatter. He combed his long black hair and dressed in his best robes. His eyes were haunted by the memory of Azkaban, and he still had a fair amount of weight to gain back in his face and body before he didn't look skeletal, but his looks were far more appealing than the last time he and Harry had met. Sirius shuddered at the memory; no wonder those poor kids had been scared of him. He'd looked like death itself.

Satisfied with his appearance, Sirius had one task left before leaving the house: wrapping Harry's present. He wasn't the master of giftwrapping—that was Remus's area—so the paper was a bit lopsided, but he figured it wouldn't last long anyway. He placed the brightly, albeit crookedly, wrapped parcel in the teenager's new room. "Perfect as it's going to get…" he mused quietly, going over his mental checklist one last time.

Confident that nothing had been forgotten, Sirius walked to the den and grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the mantle. Stepping into the fireplace, the dark-haired wizard called out "Dumbledore's Office!" and threw the powder down. Green flames engulfed him and Sirius closed his eyes tightly and kept his elbows close to the rest of his body, not keen on being misdirected. The terrible vertigo that accompanied Floo Network travel was just one more thing that the former prisoner had to get used to all over again after Azkaban.

When the spinning stopped, Sirius opened his eyes and stepped out of the fireplace, relieved to find that he had reached his destination safely. What _didn't_ please him in the slightest was the sour face that glared at him in greeting.

"Black," the man's antagonistic, monotone voice spat.

"Snape." Sirius glared back at the vile, hooked-nosed man, brushing a few stray ashes off his clothes.

"I believed you Flooed to the wrong location, Black." The potion master's lips quirked upward in a smug smirk. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is a few chimneys back." Sirius growled softly, which only caused Snape's condescending smile to grow. "Now, now mutt. One step out of line, and your adoring public will demand your immediate return to Azkaban."

Sirius knew that Snape was baiting him, and it pissed him off that he was allowing himself to be riled. "I'll just use whatever excuse _you_ used to avoid Azkaban, Snivellus." It was a low shot, using a childhood taunt like that, but the gray-eyed wizard was in no mood for this nonsense today. "Now where is the Headmaster? I'd like to collect my godson as soon as possible."

All of the mirth evaporated from Snape's expression, and a hard glint entered his eyes. "Ah yes. Potter. I believe the two of you will get on splendidly. You're two of a kind: arrogant, foolish, and irresponsible." Sirius clenched his fists in anger, his fingernails piercing the skin of his palms and leaving shallow crescent-shaped cuts. "The two of you can stay up until the dawn sharing stories of your _pathetically unfair_ lives."

Sirius whipped out his wand, prepared to make his age-old enemy eat those words, when the doors to the office opened widely, allowing Dumbledore himself to enter. "Sirius," he greeted the exonerated wizard warmly, offering him his hand. "I'm so delighted to see you." The Headmaster turned his head towards Snape with a knowing smile. "Severus. Thank you so much for keeping Sirius company while I was detained. You may return to your activities." Snape shot Sirius one more hateful look, which was returned in kind, before proudly whisking himself from the office.

"He hasn't changed in all these years," Sirius muttered.

"I think you'll find that you also have retained several traits from your youth, Sirius." Dumbledore winked, a twinkle in his eyes that Sirius couldn't help but respect. "Now, to business. You've come for Harry Potter's location."

Sirius nodded adamantly. One of the conditions his old Headmaster had placed on this arrangement was that he wasn't allowed to know where his godson was being kept until the time came for him to collect Harry from Lily's horrible relatives. Dumbledore had suspected that Sirius would try to snatch the young wizard away before the month was finished, and with good reason. Sirius didn't know what those Muggles had done to his godson, but the look in Harry's eyes whenever he spoke of his "family" was enough to wound the man's soul. If he'd known the address—it was somewhere in Surrey; he'd seen Harry there one night, although he hadn't seen the exact house—he'd have watched those Dursleys with an eagle eye. The moment he'd seen anything less than love and acceptance, Sirius would have kidnapped Harry and carried him off, blood wards or no. Dumbledore had anticipated all of this, of course, and kept Harry's location a secret until now. Sirius had also given his word not to go looking for the house.

"Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," Dumbeldore spoke in a slow, clear tone, allowing Sirius to memorize the address. The dark-haired wizard ran it through his mind several times until he couldn't have possibly forgotten. "No matter what you witness, Sirius, I implore you to keep your temper in check."

Sirius's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Am I going to see something that will make me angry, Headmaster?"

"It is very possible." Dumbledore placed his hand on Sirius's shoulder. "The Dursleys have not treated Harry like their son, as you would have done."

"Then why…" Sirius took a deep breath, trying not to explode. "Then why did you order Hagrid to take Harry to them? Was the blood protection really that important? More important than growing up with someone who loved him?" He clenched his fists again. "If you'd allowed me to keep Harry that night, I never would have chased Pettigrew. That was the reason I gave up! I had nothing to live for anymore!"

Dumbledore's expression filled with a genuine sadness, and Sirius felt a little guilty for his harsh words. It was hardly the Headmaster's fault that they'd changed Secret Keepers without telling anyone, that Pettigrew had betrayed them, or that Sirius's lust for revenge had gotten him locked up. "I know that now, Sirius. Believe me, not trusting you or considering Harry's options more thoughtfully remains a deep regret of mine. I would do anything to change what happened that night, as would you I imagine." Sirius nodded and Dumbledore's smile returned. "But that is in the past. I believe that you and Harry will have a lovely summer. I don't believe you realize how much he is looking forward to living with you."

"With an old, crazy wizard like me?" Sirius chuckled. "Oh yes, it will be a dream come true."

"More than you could possibly know, Sirius." The Headmaster's voice was sincere, and the younger man felt a stirring of affection in his heart. If Harry was really that excited, then he mustn't keep his godson waiting any longer.

"I'll be off then."

"Oh!" exclaimed Dumbledore as Sirius turned back to the fireplace. "I have something for you." The ancient wizard picked up a shiny, silver object from his desk and tossed it to Sirius, who caught it with ease. When he looked down at his hand, he was confused for a moment. _Why would Dumbledore give me a random key?_ Then Sirius examined the key more closely. It had teeth on both sides and was worn and well-scratched. The familiar shape fit easily in his hand, and Sirius realized what this was: the key to his motorbike! He looked up, gaping like a fish, into the broadly-grinning face of Dumbledore. "Hagrid asked me to see that your bike was returned. I believe it's parked just outside."

Sirius was halfway down the hall before Dumbledore could close his last syllable. He sprinted through Hogwarts, which seemed so lifeless without its students, to the front doors and flung them open. There, parked against a stone wall, was his flying motorbike. Reverently, Sirius ran his fingers over the handlebars. He'd gotten this bike for himself to celebrate running away from home and getting blasted off of the Black Family tree. It was a symbol of everything that his family hated and he loved, a physical manifestation of his newfound freedom. He and James had a blast enchanting it to fly and using it to outrun Muggle police and Death Eaters alike. "Hello, beautiful," he murmured, mounting the motorbike. Unlike its owner, the piece of machinery hadn't aged a day since he'd leant it to Hagrid so many years ago. "How low have I sunk," he asked himself in an amused tone, "to be jealous of a motorbike?" Sirius stepped on the kickstart, and the sweet music of the bike's V-twin engine roared in his ears. Gripping the handlebars tightly, a mad grin stretched over his face as his transport began to levitate. "4 Privet Drive…look out."

* * *

A/N: I had originally planned for Sirius to pick up Harry and take him home in this chapter, but getting caught up with our favorite mad wizard took longer than I thought, so I split the section into two.

Next time—Sirius confronts the Dursleys, Aunt Marge and Ripper fight back, and Harry rides on a motorbike. Plus more!

If you want a quicker update, pretty please leave a review! It really is a powerful incentive. Thanks to the Guest who left a review for Chapter 1!

Thanks also to everyone who has favorited and followed this story so far. It means a lot to me!


	3. A Place to Belong

The first part of Sirius's trip to Privet Drive was wonderful. He'd always loved flying, especially flying fast. James had talked him into trying out for the Quidditch team in their second year, and Sirius had become enamored with the sport right away. When he was in the air, zooming so fast that the world became a blur of color, the wind moving right through him…he was able to forget all his cares.

He followed the tracks of the Hogwarts Express back towards London, flying high enough in the clouds that no Muggle who happened to see him would make out that his vehicle of choice was a suspicious flying motorbike. When he neared the city, however, it occurred to him that he couldn't just go dropping out of the sky when he reached Harry's neighborhood. If he caused a ruckus among the Muggles, those in the Ministry who still feared or disliked him would hang him out to dry.

 _I guess I have to do this the hard way._ Sirius made sure that no non-magical creatures were in the area before carefully lowering his motorbike to the ground, resigning himself to travelling on the road for the remainder of his trip.

Whoever designed Muggle transportation should be hexed, in Sirius's opinion. The whole thing was counter-intuitive: roads, lanes, stoplights, etc. How did Muggles ever get anywhere, especially when large groups of them were going to the same place? Some Muggle-borns from his school days had complained that wizards were primitive in terms of technology, but Sirius was of the opinion that Muggle transportation was far less efficient than that of wizards.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, and Sirius estimated that it was less than two hours from sundown. Time had really gotten away from him today, and he hoped that Harry wasn't too anxious about the delay. Sirius had never specified a time for picking up his godson, but he still felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Harry with those people all day. He was certain, though, that his preparations would be well worth the wait.

Finally, Sirius turned onto Privet Drive. It was only a few blocks from where he had seen Harry last summer. The street was a row of unremarkable, boxy houses that all looked the same. The identical, posh cars in the driveways and the perfectly-manicured lawns made Sirius want to throw up. He could hardly believe that the vivacious Lily Evans Potter had a sibling who was satisfied with living in such a lifeless neighborhood. Then again, Sirius of all people knew how different siblings could be, especially when they entered adulthood and went their separate ways.

He parked his motorbike in front of 4 Privet Drive, hoping dearly that his loud vehicle had disturbed the mundane lives of the street's residents. The Dursley's house looked no different from its neighbors, and Sirius was unimpressed by the small yard size. How was a young boy supposed to have any fun in such a confined space? Though if his suspicions about these Muggles were correct, even the largest yard in the world wouldn't have made any difference in Harry's upbringing.

Sirius strode right up to the front door, pausing for a moment before knocking. He felt like a nervous schoolboy picking up his crush for their first date. He didn't have to prove anything to the Muggles, obviously, but he was still a near-stranger to his godson. Harry's first impression of him hadn't been great, so Sirius was dying for a do-over. Making sure that his robes were free of Floo powder, ash, and dirt, the gray-eyed wizard swallowed hard and rapped firmly on the door.

He heard movement from within the house, and moments later the door was opened by a middle-aged woman with graying blonde hair. Her large, horse-like front teeth immediately identified her as Petunia Dursley, Lily's older sister. Sirius had only been unfortunate enough to meet Petunia and her lard of a husband once before. James had dragged him along to the Dursleys' wedding as "moral support", and Sirius had found his best friend's soon-to-be in-laws just as distasteful as James had made them out to be: self-absorbed, self-important gits who hated anything unordinary. The thought of people like that raising his godson renewed Sirius's desire for revenge on Pettigrew. Petunia looked him up and down, her nose wrinkling in disgust as her eyes lingered on his clothing, which clearly marked him as a wizard. When her eyes came back up, she demanded in an aggravated tone, "What do you want?"

"To get my godson," Sirius replied bluntly, hoping to end this conversation as swiftly as possible so that he would not lose his temper.

Petunia paled noticeably, her eyes going wide. The disdainful look in her features was gone, replaced by fear. "Your g-godson?"

The corners of Sirius's lips turned up. So Harry had told his relatives about him. This might be simpler than he had previously anticipated. "That's right. Harry Potter, my godson. Now, I would appreciate if you let me in. I'd rather go about this the easy way, but I am more than prepared to do things the hard way if necessary." He flashed her an intimidating grin.

The blonde woman quickly swung the door open, allowing Sirius to step inside. Surveying the house's interior, he found it just as restricting and neatly prim as the outside. The revolting spotlessness reminded him of his own childhood house, and all the unpleasant memories that came along with it. But Muggles didn't have house elves, so who was keeping the house so clean, he wondered? Turning his head, he saw Petunia look both ways before closing the door, as though she suspected he had brought more wizards with him. "Where is he?" Sirius asked a bit impatiently, the sound of something loud blaring in the next room grating on his nerves.

Petunia walked to the staircase and yelled up to the second level. "Harry!" There was barely a pause after that shout was unanswered before she banged loudly several times on the newel. "HARRY!"

Sirius's eyes narrowed. Did Harry's aunt always call him that way? He hoped not. Harry was a boy, not an animal. These noisy summons seemed to have an effect though, as Sirius could hear the sounds of someone stirring on the floor above. Seconds later, a pair of footsteps trudged down the stairs. When his godson came into view, the teenager was rubbing his eyes, his dark hair sticking up every which way. It reminded Sirius of James, who could never ever get his hair to lie flat, no matter how much Muggle hair gel Lily put into it. The young wizard was looking at the ground, so Sirius didn't know if his godson had noticed him at all yet. "Harry…" he said softly.

The teenager's head shot up like a Snitch. His green eyes became large, and his mouth moved silently before he finally whispered, "Sirius." It was tentative, more like a question than a greeting, as though Harry couldn't believe that his godfather was standing there. But after blinking a few times, a huge smile lit up Harry's entire face. "Sirius!" he exclaimed, dashing down the rest of the stairs, jumping over the last four and running into Sirius's arms. His godson clung tightly to him, and Sirius wrapped his arms around Harry's back, holding the teenager close.

"What the blazes is going on here?!" an irate male's voice demanded from feet away. Both wizards ignored the question as Harry continued to bury his face in Sirius's chest.

"I missed you," he whispered, tugging at his godfather's heartstrings.

Sirius whispered in return, "I missed you more." He slowly broke the embrace and ruffled Harry's already-messy hair affectionately. The boy looked so much like James, but he had Lily's kind, intelligent eyes. "Have you got your trunk packed?"

Harry's head bounced up and down in the affirmative. "Since this morning."

Sirius bit the inside of his lip gently. He should have gotten there sooner. He returned Harry's bright smile anyway. "Should I help you grab it?"

Harry shook his head. "It will only take a minute. Be right back!" he called over his shoulder as he bounded up the stairs again. Sirius chuckled. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Who the devil are you and what are you doing in my house?" Sirius now turned his attention to the entrance hall's other occupants. There was a beefy man with a moustache whose face was wildly fluctuating between purple and scarlet in color that Sirius acknowledged as Vernon Dursley. Next to him were a large blonde woman and boy, neither of whom the wizard recognized. He assumed they were also Dursleys, going by their size. The boy was probably Lily's nephew, who had been born around the same time as Harry. Sirius remembered his friend being upset at not getting an invitation to the christening. As for the woman…well, he couldn't care less who she was.

"Sirius Black," he introduced himself simply. Dursley turned sheet-white, his expression of horror mirroring his wife's. The boy looked similarly terrified. The only one who didn't react was the non-important woman. Sirius was enjoying the power his name held at this moment. "I've come to take my godson with me for the rest of the summer."

Dursley let this information sink in, then attempted to recover from his previous display of fear by covering it up with bluster. "If you want the boy so badly," he snapped, his voice and body badly shaking even as he attempted to seem intimidating, "then keep him! We certainly don't want him here!"

Sirius inhaled quickly in rage and he opened his mouth to give this boar of a man some choice words, but he was stopped by a thumping sound on the stairs. Harry had retrieved his trunk and owl and was standing near the bottom of the staircase, eyes not meeting Sirius's. His godson looked…ashamed for some reason, like he expected Sirius to side with the Dursleys. The dark-haired ex-prisoner let out his breath slowly, accepting that taking Harry away from here was currently more important than getting into a fight with these awful Muggles.

"Believe me. Nothing would make me happier." Harry looked up at that, a timid smile on his face. Sirius grinned in reassurance, not breaking eye contact with the younger wizard, even though he was speaking to someone else. "Unfortunately for us," Sirius gestured back and forth between himself and Harry, "the matter is completely out of my hands. The powers that be have decided that Harry will spend a month every year in your…" he nearly choked "… _charming_ house for the next three summers. But rest assured, other than that month, I don't intend for Harry to ever suffer your company again."

Nameless Woman finally had the gumption to be outraged. "How dare you?! Who are you to barge into someone's home and speak like you own the place?! It figures that the boy would have a no-good, lay-about drunk like you for a godfather!" Sirius would have chuckled at that if he'd had the chance. Sure, he'd enjoyed the occasional firewhisky in his day, but he never would have classified himself as a drunk. Marlene would have killed him. Lily too, probably, for being a bad example. His mirth was cut short by the woman's next outrageous sentence. "If the boy's parents were anything like you, it's no wonder he grew up to be an ungrateful delinquent!"

Sirius's head whipped around, a murderous glint entering his eyes as the rage he had been famous for in Azkaban seized his body. He'd hex this evil balloon of a human being into oblivion for talking about the Potters that way. His hand went into his robes to retrieve his wand. Consequences be damned, he'd defend his friends.

Then he caught sight of Harry out of the corner of his gray eyes. The teenager was biting his lip in dread and looking at Sirius with a pleading expression. It was the same look Lily had used whenever she was trying to talk him and James out of something reckless. What would happen to Harry if he lost his temper? He would have to stay with the Dursleys until he tuned seventeen and would probably be punished for Sirius's outburst. And Sirius…he would be declared criminally insane and returned to Azkaban. He'd never see his godson again, and it would be all his fault because he couldn't control himself.

Reluctantly, he forced his body to relax, although his teeth remained gritted. He removed an empty hand from his pocket and pointed at the woman with a long bony finger, in lieu of his wand. "I don't know who you are, and frankly I don't care. No one insults the Potters in front of me. _No one_." Physical force was out of the question, but Sirius figured that threats couldn't get him in trouble. It wasn't like these Muggles would go to anyone in the wizarding world and complain. "If I ever hear such vile slander again, I will make certain that you never utter another syllable out of the gaping pie-hole you call a mouth."

It was a bluff, but the woman didn't know that. Her color changed to dark crimson, and it was plain to Sirius that he had struck a nerve. "RIPPER!" she screamed in fury. Sirius only had a moment to wonder what she was yelling about before a large, fierce-looking bulldog thundered into the hall. The woman pointed at Sirius and ordered, "Attack!"

Sirius heard Harry exhale in alarm and jump to his feet. His owl began to flap and screech like wild in her cage. They were both trying to warn the older wizard of the danger this charging, bared-teethed canine posed. Sirius smiled encouragingly and held a hand up to indicate that he had the situation under control. Slipping into the Padfoot section of his brain, Sirius commanded firmly, in his mind, _Stop_.

The dog ground to a halt, whipping its head from side to side, looking for the source of the order. The aggressive canine, Ripper, now looked more confused than menacing. Not finding another dog in the vicinity, he looked up into Sirius's face, preparing to resume the attack. The wizard stared steely-eyed right back. _You heard me. I said stop._

Ripper sat down obediently, lowering his head in submission. Sirius was amazed at how powerful animal instincts could be, especially in regards to social hierarchy. He and James figured out in their sixth year at Hogwarts that even when they were in human form, animals of their Animagus type felt an affinity with them, and could sense that they were dominant members of their species. Not only was Padfoot big and strong enough to best Ripper physically, but Sirius exuded an aura of confidence and authority that the other dog could not ignore.

Having subdued the ferocious canine, Sirius began to ask some questions. _Is this woman your master?_ Ripper's head bobbed up and down. _Who is she?_ The dog's head swiveled around, his eyes darting back and forth between Vernon Dursley and the woman. _Sister?_ Sirius deduced, and Ripper confirmed it with another nod. _Has she ever ordered you to attack,_ the Animagus's head tilted in Harry's direction, _this boy, the way she did me?_ The nodding came slower, more reluctantly this time. Sirius bit the inside of his lip angrily until it bled. _This boy is my pup,_ he growled in his head. Ripper whined, as if to beg the wizard to forgive him. Wild dogs like Padfoot were notorious, even among domesticated animals, for being fiercely protective of their offspring. _You will never harm my pup again, no matter what your master orders, understood?_ The bulldog's head bobbed furiously up and down in acknowledgment, and Sirius was satisfied. He knelt down and pet the dog's head. "Good boy." He reached into another of his robe's pockets, producing a bit of jerky he had been saving for the ride back. He fed it to the bulldog, who was wary at first but then gobbled the meat up greedily. "Run along now." Ripper was only too happy to oblige.

Sirius stood, brushing imaginary dirt off of himself. The entire Dursley clan was dumbfounded; even Dursley's sister's eyes betrayed a glimmer of panic. The wizard grinned broadly at the group. "We'll be off now. I shall see you next year, at which time I expect to hear what a _wonderful_ summer Harry spent with you." His cordial tone was laced with a silent threat that sent a shudder through each of the Dursleys in turn like a wave. Sirius walked to the stair landing and grabbed the handle of Harry's trunk, slinging his other arm around his godson's shoulders as they walked from the house together, slamming the door firmly behind them.

* * *

"That…that was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed.

Sirius smirked. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I thought you deserved at least one decent memory of this wretched place." The dark-haired man lugged his godson's trunk after him, wondering why it was so heavy. Then, like a genius, he remembered that Harry was an underage wizard living with Muggles. Casting a feather-light charm on his trunk was out of the question.

"How did you do it?" Harry asked. "Stop Ripper from attacking you, I mean."

Sirius winked at his godson. "One of the many benefits of being an Animagus."

Harry's eyes widened in admiration. "Could you teach me to become one?"

The Azkaban survivor gave a barking laugh. "The Marauders were fifteen before we figured it out. But you are so intelligent and you have such a _brilliant_ teacher that I'm certain you could learn. I'll speak to Dumbledore about it."

The green-eyed teenager looked thrilled at this news. "So, how are we travelling?"

Sirius brought Harry and his trunk over to his parked motorbike. "We'll be riding in style."

Harry's expression became very thoughtful. His brow furrowed and his nose scrunched up, like he was trying to remember something. "Sirius," he said slowly, "your motorbike…doesn't fly, by chance?"

A grin spread from ear to ear on the gray-eyed wizard's face. "Remember that, do you?"

"I used to have dreams about a flying motorbike all the time." Harry reached out to touch the handlebars, convincing himself that the vehicle was real. "Uncle Vernon said I was crazy; that there was no such thing."

"Well your uncle is as daft as a pile of rocks," Sirius replied, prompting his godson's smile to return. "Now, would you like to ride in the sidecar, or on the bike with me?"

"With you," came the immediate answer.

Sirius's heart sped up a bit, elated that Harry was taking to him so quickly. How could he have been absent for so many years of this boy's life? He needed a parent and a mentor; someone who would take care of him, teach him, and encourage him. _I really messed things up, Prongs. I'm so sorry. I'll make up for it, I promise._ "Excellent choice. Much more fun up there anyway. We'll put your trunk in the sidecar, then. Why don't you set your owl free?" He picked up Harry's luggage—which really wasn't that heavy when he considered his godson's entire life was in there—and placed it in the sidecar. Harry released his snowy white owl and she perched happily on his arm, stretching her wings. Sirius took the empty cage and placed it in the car alongside Harry's trunk. Taking out his wand, Sirius looked both ways before whispering _"Epoximise"_ , ensuring that the luggage wouldn't fall from the car while they were driving.

Straddling the bike, Sirius positioned himself on the very front of the seat, patting the space behind him. Harry climbed on board, sitting right where Sirius had gestured to. "Let your owl go. She's smart enough to follow us." Harry nodded and lightly bounced his arm, signaling the white owl to fly off. She did so, carefully circling the bike in anticipation. "Now hold on tightly to me," the older wizard instructed. Two hands placed themselves, uncertain, at his sides. Gently, Sirius reached down and put his hands on Harry's, confirming that this was indeed all right, and moved the smaller hands around his waist to meet each other just below his ribcage. "Tightly," he repeated, and Harry linked his hands together, firmly anchoring himself to his godfather.

Sirius stepped on the kickstart and purposefully revved the engine several times, resulting in shouts of protest from various houses on the street. Turning his head, Sirius winked at Harry. "The most excitement these dull busybodies have had in years." His joke elicited a light-hearted, happy laugh from his godson that made the dark-haired wizard feel warm again, melting away the frigid years of Azkaban and Dementors from his heart. The motorbike and its two passengers sped off with Harry's owl in tow. Sirius was no longer worried about the Muggle police catching him; he had his godson and they were going home. The young wizard in question was cheering in exhilaration, urging his godfather to go faster. Sirius duly complied, taking roads that looked emptier and dodging any vehicles they did confront with all the ease of a former Quidditch player.

They rode this way for a long time, until their path veered away from the city. When the bike began to leave the ground, Harry's enthusiastic shouts became even louder. Sirius flew high and fast, doing flips, dives, and various tricks to entertain his godson. Needless to say, the Gryffindor Seeker seemed to be getting a kick out of this. He laughed so hard and loud that Sirius was surprised the whole world couldn't hear. The two wizards flew for about an hour before the motorbike began to descend, slowing down as it neared the skyline.

"Are we nearly there?" Harry asked, squeezing his arms around Sirius's midsection.

The dark-haired man nodded, pulling a slip of parchment out of his robes, holding it up to Harry's eye level. "I need you to memorize this." He held the parchment up for several moments. "Have you got it?" Harry nodded. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I'm sure."

Sirius motioned for the owl flying beside them to come over. He showed the paper to her, and after looking at it for a few seconds, she nodded to show she understood. Sirius crumbled up the parchment into a tiny ball and swallowed it. "That is the address to our new house. You must not reveal it to anyone, understand?" Harry nodded again, just as the motorbike touched down in a large, green field dotted with trees. The evening wind blew through the grass and the leaves of the trees, the twilight sun dancing on the wildflowers and a small stream nearby.

Harry let out a long breath and beamed at Sirius as he climbed off of the bike. "That was brilliant!"

"You used to love it as a baby," Sirius remarked, following suit. Harry cocked his head at his godfather curiously, and the gray-eyed wizard elaborated. "I used to take you on rides when you were fussy or right before bedtime. Lily didn't approve—said that a motorbike was too dangerous—but some nights, the only thing that could get you to sleep was driving through the stars with me."

Harry's eyes filled with wonder and a hint of sadness. "So that's why I dreamed about it? It's a memory from when I was little?"

"Most likely," Sirius agreed. "Though your dream is probably about the night Hagrid took you to live with the Muggles. I leant him my bike…I hoped it would calm you down a bit." It was his turn to look sad, remembering the night he'd parted with two of his most precious things. But there was no time for wallowing in self-pity now. "This little beauty took you to Privet Drive years ago, and now it's taken you away, to your new home."

Harry beamed and looked around them expectantly. The meadow was lovely, but appeared empty to him. After scanning the area, those green eyes looked back at Sirius, confused. The older wizard chuckled. "Remember what was written on the parchment?" Harry nodded. "I need you to picture it in your mind."

Harry closed his eyes tightly and pursed his lips, trying hard. When he opened them, his mouth dropped open. Sirius grinned; Harry could see it now. In the middle of the field, there was a sprawling cottage. The exterior strongly resembled the Potter Cottage, but it was much more sizable than Harry's childhood home. Sirius reached over and poked his godson, who was still gaping like a fish. He started noticeably at the unexpected contact, and whipped his head around to stare at his godfather. A sly smile grew across Sirius's face. "Race you to the front door." He took off running, and Harry jolted out of his stupor and chased his godfather, not far behind. Sirius had a head-start, but Harry was in better shape, so they ended up slamming their palms against the front door at the same time. "I let you tie with me," Sirius insisted.

"Sure you did," Harry grinned in return, rolling his eyes teasingly. Sirius retrieved his wand and used it to unlock the door, pushing it open so that Harry could step inside.

* * *

The front room was large and open, giving a full view of the rest of the main floor. There were windows everywhere to let in the sunlight. The décor wasn't anything rich or fancy, but it was warm and inviting. Once again, Sirius had tried to reproduce his memories of the Potter Cottage. He looked sideways at Harry to gauge his godson's first impression of the house. The young wizard's green eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. After a moment, he laughed. "It's gigantic! The Dursley's entire first floor could fit in this room alone!"

"Do you like it?" Sirius asked anxiously.

"I love it!" Harry broke from Sirius's side to explore the room, looking at the furniture and the pictures on the walls and peering into the other rooms. He noticed that his godson didn't touch anything, though that was understandable. Harry needed to feel more comfortable with the house first. Sirius knew what might help. "Do you want to see your room?"

Harry spun around sharply, staring at Sirius like he'd lost his mind. "My…my room?"

The disbelief in Harry's voice troubled the Azkaban escapee. Why would something as simple as a bedroom seem so surprising? Maybe Harry and his cousin had shared a room and this was the first time he'd have one to himself? Maybe… Sirius masked his concerns with a gentle smile, and gestured with his head for his godson to follow him up the stairs.

The very first door on the second floor was Harry's bedroom. Sirius's stomach started to do flip-flops. He was more nervous about this moment then he'd been about anything else in his entire life, and there was no going back now. The two of them stood at the door for a for a minute or so before Sirius motioned with his hand. "Go on, then. It's yours, after all." Harry reached out and gripped the doorknob, turning it slowly and making his way inside the bedroom. Sirius remained in the doorway as Harry entered, watching his godson walk to the middle of the room and look around.

The room was decorated in Gryffindor red and gold. There was a large four poster bed, a mahogany desk and wardrobe, an area for Harry's broom and school trunk, a couch, a round tea table, and several of those Muggle beanbag chairs that James had always fancied. The door to the adjoining bathroom was open, showing it to also be Gryffindor themed, right down to the lion's-head faucet in the soaker tub. The walls of Harry's bedroom were covered with Gryffindor banners, Quidditch posters, and every picture of the Potter family and Harry's school friends that Sirius and Remus had been able to get their hands on.

The silence seemed to stretch on for ages, and every second that Harry didn't react made Sirius's fear grow. What if his godson hated it? What if it made him sad? Would he cry or would he pretend to like the room, just to spare his guardian's feelings? Finally, Sirius heard a soft sound: Harry's breathing hitching. The older wizard's heart sank. Harry was crying. He had to do something to fix this, right away. "Harry, don't worry. We can change…"

Harry turned around, looking at his godfather with teary eyes. "Is this…is this really all for me?" Sirius nodded sheepishly, preparing to apologize profusely when the dark-haired teenager exclaimed, "It's wonderful! Wonderful! It's the best room ever! It's so big!" The energy he had pent up standing in the center of the room broke loose and Harry seemed to lose his shyness all at once. He jumped on the bed, sat at the desk, opened the wardrobe, bounced on the couch and the beanbag chairs, and explored the bathroom, laughing happily all the while. When he'd seen the whole thing, he returned to the middle of the room and spun around in a circle. "I always dreamed of a room like this." He stopped, facing Sirius, and ran to give his godfather another hug. "Thank you, Sirius! Thank you!"

The dark-haired wizard, who was getting more used to hugs every time he received one, held Harry closely, with one hand on his godson's back on the other on the nape of Harry's neck. He swallowed the lump in his throat and croaked, "You're welcome." He was so happy, so very happy that Harry liked his bedroom. So happy that Harry had wanted to come live with him in the first place. Sirius wanted his precious godson to always be smiling and laughing for joy, just like this. "You haven't even opened your actual present yet."

Harry looked at Sirius curiously, then turned back towards the desk, his eyes landing on the badly-wrapped package sitting there. He broke their embrace carefully and walked back to the desk; Sirius followed a bit behind. Harry picked up the gift and looked at Sirius, as if to ask permission. His godfather thought this was a bit odd—what teenager waited for a go-ahead to open their own gift?—but nodded in approval. Harry carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a green box. Setting the paper aside, Harry slowly opened the box and took out the object resting inside. It was a glass ball, a little smaller than a Bludger. The green-eyed wizard studied it, confused, before turning to Sirius. "You gave me a crystal ball?"

Sirius gave a loud, barking laugh. His present did indeed look like a divination device, although it was smaller. He shook his head in response to Harry's befuddled expression. "Shake it." Harry did so, and colors started to swirl within the glass until they settled into an image. The present Sirius had bought for his godson worked on the same principle as a Pensieve, except it could only store and display a single memory. It was a sentimental trinket, used mostly for remembering milestones like graduations or weddings.

The memory Sirius had chosen was of the last time he'd visited the Potters. Inside the ball, in miniature, was the Potter Cottage. One-year-old Harry was flying on the broomstick Sirius had given him as a birthday gift, and James and Sirius were chasing him around the yard, laughing. Lily came out of the house at one point to call them into dinner, and when she was ignored she joined in the chase, throwing innocent jinxes at Sirius until he produced water balloons and began pelting her with them. Harry and Sirius watched the scene play out to the end, when four soaking wet and laughing wizards went inside the house for dinner. The image faded and the glass cleared again. "You can replay it whenever you want," Sirius assured his godson. "The memory is protected in that glass; it will never fade or dim."

Harry hugged the ball to his chest and carefully set it back on the desk. "It's perfect. Everything is. I don't know how to thank you."

"Hmm," mused Sirius teasingly. "Maybe something along the lines of, 'Geez Sirius, you're the best godfather a wizard could ever have.'" Sirius interrupted when Harry opened his mouth to repeat the offhand remark. "I'm just joking, Harry. I was pleased to do this for you. It was well worth it to see you smiling." He reached over and ruffled his godson's hair again. "We've got a whole big house to explore later, but there's something else I wanted you to see before the sun goes down."

"Something else?" Harry asked incredulously. "What could be better than this?"

"You'll see," Sirius winked, taking Harry by the arm and leading him downstairs. When they were in the main room again, the dark-haired wizard moved behind his godson and covered his eyes with his hands. "All right, I'm going to guide you. No peaking." Harry relaxed, and Sirius took this to mean the teenager trusted him. He guided his charge through the house to the glass doors which led to the backyard. Sirius whispered " _Alohamora_ " and the doors slid open, allowing the two wizards to walk onto the wooden deck outside. Taking a deep breath, Sirius removed his hands slowly. "Have a look."

Harry gasped loudly, his eyes flitting around like crazy, taking in every inch of the sight before him. "It's…it's…" he stuttered in surprise.

"…a miniature Quidditch pitch," Sirius supplied helpfully. "It wouldn't do for Gryffindor's champion Seeker to be out of practice during the summer. Plus, I figured that you and your friends could play when they come to visit…" He was cut off by the sight of tears running down his godson's cheeks. "Harry? What's the matter?" Sirius bent down and swiped the tears away with his thumb.

"You're crazy…"

"So I've been told."

Harry smiled in wonder. "You mean it? I can practice Quidditch? I can invite my friends over?"

Sirius smothered his anger at the Dursleys, focusing on Harry's elation. "Of course!"

"Now this house _really_ can't get any better!" Harry's smile did this queer thing where it trembled at the edges, and Sirius realized that his godson wanted to ask him something.

"What is it?" Sirius prompted.

"Well, I just wondered…I mean…I don't know if you even play Quidditch. But maybe you'd want to…I don't know…practice with me sometimes?"

Another barking laugh from the Animagus. "Harry, I would _love_ to play Quidditch with you. I may not look it now, but I was a decent Beater back in my day."

"Really?" Harry looked very interested in this piece of information.

Sirius nodded. "Your father talked me into it. He didn't want to be on the team alone. Remus was too bookish and dignified for Quidditch and Pettigrew…" his expression soured and he forced himself to leave that line of conversation alone. "Anyway, I was the only one he could persuade to try out. And miracle of miracles, we were actually pretty good at Quidditch, so McGonagall made me a Beater and James a Chaser. She said it was the only thing our hyperactivity was good for." Harry laughed, the sound that Sirius was coming to love more than any other. "Anyway, it's getting dark out. We can play tomorrow."

He gestured for Harry to come back inside, and he closed the glass doors firmly behind them. "Have you had dinner yet?" Harry shook his head. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. Why don't we head to the dining room?" Sirius pointed the way and the two wizards walked in that direction, Sirius walking just barely behind Harry now. When they entered the dining room, Harry's green eyes got large again. A feast fit for a king was spread out all over the table; there were dishes of all kinds, all looking fresh and ready to be eaten.

"Did you…make all this?" the gaping teenager asked.

Sirius beamed proudly. "All from scratch. And no magic was involved, except the charm I used to keep everything warm."

Harry laughed, not his normal laugh this time, but something _sadder_ , in a way. "I'm such an idiot."

"What do you mean?" Sirius inquired, raising an eyebrow in confusion

"This," Harry gestured to the table, "is what you were doing all day. The house and my present and dinner…I'm such an idiot." The dark-haired boy adjusted his glasses awkwardly. "When you didn't show right away, I thought you'd changed your mind about having me live with you."

"Changed my…" Sirius was completely bewildered. "Oh Harry…" he whispered softly. He put his hands on either side of his godson's face. "Harry." When the teenager didn't look up, Sirius spoke more firmly. "Harry James Potter, look at me." The green eyes slowly moved upwards to meet Sirius's gray ones. Swallowing deeply, the older wizard spoke. "I don't expect you to tell me about your life with the Dursleys all at once. In fact, there are some things you may never feel comfortable telling me, and I can understand that." There were plenty of things that Sirius didn't want Harry knowing about the _Black_ family, after all. He wanted his godson to remain completely untouched by his parents' wickedness. "But there is something I need you to understand. I am _not_ the Dursleys. I would never leave you alone, Harry. No matter what happens from now on, no matter where you are…it doesn't matter what I have to do. I _will_ come for you."

Harry's eyes lit up with understanding and a slow smile, brighter than the sun, grew on his face. He nodded slowly. "Thank you Sirius."

"Don't mention it, kiddo." Sirius flicked Harry's forehead affectionately and pulled out a chair for him. "Now let's sit and eat before our meal gets up and walks away."

* * *

The two wizards had quite the feast, eating until they were nearly stuffed to the brim. Harry tried a bit of everything, even the dishes that were unfamiliar to him, and devoured it all with pleasure. Sirius was grateful that his godson wasn't a picky eater. There _was_ something about Harry's eating that worried him, though. He didn't eat like a normal teenager, or like someone enjoying delicious food after a long day. Harry was eating like a starving person, and Sirius Black had more than enough experience with what that looked like. He thought back to Harry's whale-like relatives—particularly his cousin, who looked plump enough for the slaughterhouse—and compared their appearance with Harry's. Genetics might be playing a role, as Lily and Petunia were a normal weight, but genetics certainly didn't explain the way Harry's hip and rib bones had rubbed uncomfortably against Sirius's back during their trip. And when the two of them embraced, the young wizard had seemed so frail and…malnourished. Sirius gripped his silverware tightly. Surely the Dursleys hadn't been… _starving_ his godson? They were thoroughly unpleasant people, some of the most distasteful Muggles that Sirius had ever met, but Dumbledore wouldn't have left Harry in an _abusive_ household, would he? He wouldn't ask, not tonight at least. He didn't want to spoil this evening with talk of the Dursleys.

They ate mostly in silence, content to enjoy the food and each other's company. Every once in a while, Harry would comment on how delicious the food was or ask Sirius to identify a particular dish. Sirius in return provided a few anecdotes: the time the Marauders had turned the school's water supply into Bouillabaisse, or how Lily had been obsessed with steak and kidney pie while pregnant with Harry. His quirky stories made Harry laugh, and being able to talk with his godson about James and Lily took some of the sting away from those memories.

When the eating became slow, and it was clear they wouldn't be able to stomach much more, Sirius excused himself from the table, returning with his cake. "You still have room for dessert?"

"Is that a trick question?" Harry asked, grinning cheekily.

Sirius smiled and set the dessert down on the table, picking up a knife and a dessert plate. With precision, he cut the cake into quarters and dished one of the four slices onto the plate. He passed it to Harry with a grin. "Eat as much as you like." Harry dug into the cake with enthusiasm. Sirius took a slice for himself and followed suit. All those years with the Dementors had really left him craving chocolate.

"You really made this?" Harry asked after swallowing the first bite. "It's the best cake I've ever had!"

"Your parents agreed with you," Sirius chuckled. "And Remus. And don't even get me started on Dumbledore. Stalked me for weeks after he found out I could bake."

"I'm not joking Sirius. This really is fantastic."

The dark-haired wizard gave an elegant bow. "Well thank you. Glad to know my skills haven't deteriorated."

They enjoyed the cake together, and when Sirius finished his slice, he looked up to see Harry's head bobbing up and down. "Looks like someone has had quite enough excitement for one day," he chuckled. Standing, he went to Harry's side and helped his godson up from his seat. "Let's get you to bed, shall we?"

"But…shouldn't I help clean up dinner?" Harry asked drowsily.

"Absolutely not," came Sirius's blunt reply. "The last thing we need is you falling asleep in the Yorkshire pudding." He took Harry's arm and guided him upstairs to his bedroom. Sirius turned down Harry's bed while his godson changed in the bathroom. When Harry returned, Sirius aided him into the bed and tucked him in snuggly, like he used to do when the teenager had been a baby. "Now, if you need anything, my room is across the hall from yours."

Harry nodded groggily, nearly asleep. "G'night Sirius."

"Goodnight, Harry." Sirius quietly crept to the door, putting out all the lights. He looked back at his godson—safe and comfortable in his bed—once more before closing the door, and whispered, "Welcome home."

* * *

A/N: Super long chapter to thank you guys for all the support! I'm absolutely ecstatic at the response this fic has gotten. I hope this installment didn't disappoint; it was the chapter I wanted to write from the very beginning.

A shout out to everyone who has favorited or followed this story. Thank you for your continued interest! A special thanks to Commander Riker, zha'aiacole, Lupinescence, Rosie Nabokov, Alexis, Guest #2, Actual Weeb, and Renegade for their wonderful reviews. The super speedy update is dedicated to you. An extra special thank you to Guest #1, whose comments helped me to improve Chapter 2. You are excellent!

Please continue to review. All constructive criticism, suggestions, and feedback are welcome.

Next time—Harry cooks breakfast for Sirius, a discussion about the Dursleys and a certain tournament ensues, and godson and godfather play Quidditch. See you then!


	4. Fresh Start

When Harry Potter began to wake up the next morning, his first thought was to wonder why the bed was so soft.

The mattresses that the Dursleys had given him—both the one in the cupboard and the one in the bedroom upstairs—were years old and flat as a board, having lost all of their cushy-firmness long ago.

His green eyes flickered open, and the colors red and gold began to flash in his vision, confusing him. His room at the Dursley's house was a blue-gray. He'd always hated that color; it reminded him of the clouds on a gloomy, overcast day.

Red and gold…those were the colors of his Gryffindor dormitory. Was it possible that he was back at school already, and just didn't remember the train ride here or the Start-of-Term feast? No, that couldn't be right. Even the beds at his dorm weren't this comfortable. Harry rubbed his hand over the mattress, which was soft as a cloud and yet firm enough to support his sleeping body. It almost felt odd, not waking up with a sore neck or back. Just where was he? Harry's eyes skimmed the wall next to his bed, and was greeted by a picture of him with his parents—all three of them smiling wide and waving at the camera…at _him_.

Harry shot up to a sitting position, reaching for his glasses. When the spectacles were on, his eyes did a quick 360 degree scan of the room. Memories of yesterday rushed back to him in an instant. The Dursleys…Aunt Marge…a flying motorbike…the Quidditch pitch…his room…

…Sirius.

A relieved smile lit up the teenage wizard's face. It hadn't been some crazy, hopeful dream. Sirius had _really_ come and taken him away from the Dursleys! This house, this room…they were his! Harry patted his comfy bed again, something tickling the back of his throat.

It was still early morning, but Harry was used to waking up at this hour to cook breakfast for Uncle Vernon and prepare for the day. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Harry stretched his arms and headed for the bathroom. Even _that_ was huge. Harry had never had a bathroom to himself before, and he didn't know what to do with all the space. The soaker tub looked heavenly though, and he decided to try it out this evening. If Sirius said that it was all right, of course. After relieving himself, washing his face, and trying to comb his hair (unsuccessfully), Harry returned to his room and found his trunk neatly stored in its proper space. Sirius must have brought it in last night, after he had fallen asleep. Harry opened up the trunk and pulled out a t-shirt, a pair of light-colored jeans, and socks. Quickly dressing, the teenager resolved to unpack his trunk and make the bed later. He would have done those things first, but there was a more important task to attend to.

Harry quietly eased the door to his room open. He looked both ways, even though that was a silly thing to do. Only he and Sirius were here; there was no Uncle Vernon or Dudley or Malfoy to look out for. Harry crept into the hall, moving as softly as possible. Sirius's room was right across from his, and he didn't want to wake his godfather up. He tiptoed down the stairs and silently made his way to the kitchen.

Last night his godfather had slaved away to make the best meal that Harry had ever tasted—yes, Sirius's cooking was even better than the food at Hogwarts, partly because this had been made just for Harry—and the young wizard wanted to repay Sirius with an amazing breakfast. He wondered if his godfather would be asleep long enough to prepare everything that he wanted to make.

Harry found the kitchen easily enough; it was just adjacent to the dining room where he'd eaten last night. The sink was cluttered with dishes from the large meal; he added those to his to-do list. There was an oven in the kitchen, but no refrigerator. Where he expected the fridge to be, there was a door. Harry opened it and found himself in a huge walk-in pantry. _Just how big is this house anyway? What are Sirius and I going to do with all this room?_ Harry stepped into the storeroom and perused the ingredients at his disposal. One of the corners of the pantry was noticeably colder, and he realized quickly that the area was keeping all the perishable food items fresh. The leftovers from last night's dinner—enough to feed Harry and Sirius for three more nights—had been neatly put away and looked just as appetizing now as they had hours ago. Harry hoped that his godfather would teach him the charm for keeping food from spoiling; it was brilliant.

The green-eyed wizard filled his arms up with eggs, milk, bacon, potatoes, bread, jam, and oranges. He carefully hauled this loot back out of the pantry and spread it over the countertop. Harry searched around in the kitchen—as quietly as possible—for cooking pans. He finally located them in a cupboard filled with pots and other metal objects and had to slowly work them free from the tower so that they wouldn't clang together and make a racket. After setting the pans on three of the stovetop's six burners, Harry was relieved to find that this kitchen appliance was a Muggle design: knobs, dials, and whatnot. He was grateful, not having to worry about lighting a fire and making sure it was the right temperature. Harry turned the selected burners on high, and while he was waiting for the stove to get hot, he washed, peeled, and shredded the potatoes. When the pans were ready, Harry set the potatoes in one and laid out strips of bacon in the other. Leaving the eggs for later, the teenager set about finding the tools he needed to make fresh orange juice.

This house had shattered all of Harry's expectations. It was large, but still homey. There was a sense of familiarity that radiated from the rooms; Harry could imagine having lived here all of his life. His bedroom had _clearly_ been decorated with him in mind, which would surely have involved thought and effort on his behalf. The young wizard's throat began to tingle again. Was this what a parent was supposed to be like? Someone who cared for you, considered your wants and needs first, tried to make you happy, stood up for you and protected you, and was glad to have you around? Harry's mind couldn't fully process that depth of unconditional affection coming to him from an adult. Sure—the Weasleys had been very kind to him and had sort of adopted him as an extra member of their family, and the professors at Hogwarts (minus Snape) had encouraged him, worried about him, and taught him a lot of things. But in the end, his professors had nearly a thousand other students to take care of, and the Weasleys had their own children. Harry had Sirius Black all to himself. The attention was a bit overwhelming after he'd been neglected for so many years, but it made him feel warm and happy all the same.

Harry had just finished the orange juice and was mixing together the eggs and milk when a voice nearly made him jump.

"What are you doing?"

The teen whipped his head around to find Sirius—groggy, half-dressed, and unshaven—standing behind him. Harry swallowed hard. What if he wasn't supposed to use the kitchen without his godfather's permission? "Did I wake you?"

Sirius ran a hand through his bedraggled morning hair. "I could smell something delicious down in the kitchen and I wondered if a burglar had decided to break in and cook me breakfast." He winked at Harry playfully. The young wizard smiled in return. Sirius wouldn't be making jokes if he was upset. Harry continued to stir the egg mixture as his guardian strolled up to the stove to survey his work. "The real question is, what are _you_ doing up? It's 6:30 in the morning."

"I'm always up around this time."

"What for?" Sirius laughed. "Early morning Quidditch? Watching the sunrise with cute girls?"

Harry shrugged. "Force of habit. I don't think I could sleep in if I tried." He thought he saw Sirius frown before the gray-eyed wizard turned back to the stove to give the hash browns a few tosses. Harry carefully ladled the egg-milk mix into the empty pan and the two wizards cooked side by side, Harry folding the scrambled eggs and Sirius working the hash browns and replacing the finished slices of bacon with uncooked ones.

"Have you always cooked breakfast for yourself?" Sirius asked, his voice sounding a bit strained.

"Well…for me and the Dursleys," Harry responded slowly. He saw Sirius grip the pan handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"I see. And so you decided to get up this early to cook for us?" Harry nodded, not sure what he had done to upset his godfather. Sirius let out a deep sigh, then turned to Harry and smiled softly, ruffling the younger wizard's hair. Harry couldn't help but beam at the pleasant gesture. "Well, it all looks delicious, and I'm touched that you went to so much trouble for me…" Harry opened his mouth to object. It wasn't any trouble at all. He would never be able to repay Sirius for all the things he had done for him over the past few months. His attempt to protest went unnoticed by Sirius. "For future reference, I don't expect you to make any meals. That's my responsibility. If you really _want_ to cook sometimes, then I won't stop you. Whatever makes you happy is fine with me. Just know that it's not required."

Harry nodded, even though he was astounded. Not make meals? How was he supposed to earn his keep, then? Other chores, maybe? It _was_ a big house, and would certainly require a lot of cleaning. Harry could certainly do some housework, and was relieved to hear that he only had to make food when he wanted to.

The two wizards finished their respective dishes and Harry made some toast as Sirius put the eggs and hash browns into serving bowls and the bacon on a platter, carrying all three over to the counter. Harry spread jam on the toasted bread and brought it and the pitcher of orange juice he had made. When he went to dish the food, Sirius stopped him.

"If you've been dishing your portions at the Dursleys, then you haven't been giving yourself enough," Sirius said firmly, heaping good-sized helpings of everything onto a plate for Harry. The younger wizard blushed softly; he'd only taken as much as his relatives had allowed him to, which wasn't a lot. And he'd never gotten first servings before.

His godfather made sure that the food was divided equally between them and pulled out two stools from next to the counter, taking one for himself and gesturing for Harry to take the other. Eating side-by-side with someone at home was completely new for Harry, and he enjoyed the warmth of Sirius's nearby presence. He waited for the gray-eyed man to take a bite of his eggs; Sirius seemed to savor it for a long time before swallowing and reaching over to ruffle Harry's hair again. "Circe's pigs!" he exclaimed. "You give me a run for my money, Harry! This is delicious."

The teenager grinned proudly. No one had ever complimented his cooking before, and it meant the world coming from Sirius. He tucked into his own plate, pleased that it _did_ in fact taste good, though his godfather might be exaggerating a bit. The two ate quietly again, though the silence was intimate rather than awkward. Harry had never realized how relaxing it was to enjoy a meal in another person's company without the incessant blare of a television in the background. Eating breakfast without being rushed was a welcome change too.

When the meal was finished, Harry scooped up all the dishes and his cooking utensils and deposited them in the sink. Rolling up his sleeves, the young wizard turned on the water and grabbed a plate to begin washing. He was stopped by a firm, but gentle, hand on his wrist. "Harry," Sirius spoke softly. "I think we need to have a talk. Come with me." Harry swallowed deeply and put the plate down. His godfather pulled out his wand and gave it a flick, and the dishes began to wash themselves. Harry had forgotten about this spell; he'd seen Mrs. Weasley use it before. Was Sirius angry that he didn't know the charm and had tried to wash the dishes by hand? The green-eyed teenager opened his mouth to apologize, but the words just wouldn't come.

Sirius led him to a large, cozy-looking den. There were couches and a fireplace and even a chess table. In normal circumstances, Harry would have been eager to explore this new room, but right now the pit in his stomach was stopping him from being excited. Sirius gestured for him to sit down on one of the couches. Harry obliged, and his godfather sat next to him, spreading his arm along the edge of the couch. The older wizard took a deep breath and began slowly. "It's clear you've become accustomed to a certain standard of living at the Dursley's…"

 _Translation: You act too much like a Muggle._ The thought that he'd disappointed his godfather made Harry sick.

"…so I think we should talk about what I expect from you while you are living here."

Harry nodded, listening intently, ready to jump off London Bridge if Sirius asked.

"I'd like for you to be a normal teenage wizard: to have fun and spend time with friends. To play Quidditch and use magic when I'm not looking. I expect you to break the rules, be selfish, and give me some attitude now and again. I would like you to trust and confide in me and tell me when I'm messing something up. I expect you to be honest with me and to tell me where you're going and with whom whenever you leave the house. When you're out at night, I expect you to be home at the time we've agreed on. I'd appreciate it if I was able to navigate your room without a pogo stick, but other than that my standards for cleanliness are sort of lax."

Sirius moved his hand from the couch to Harry's shoulder. "I want you to say what's on your mind and do whatever you want—as long as it isn't dangerous or illegal. In short, I expect you to be Harry Potter, my godson." Sirius grinned and quirked an eyebrow. "Can you do that for me?"

Harry's green eyes widened slightly. All of those things were so easy. He could follow Sirius's guidelines practically without thinking. It seemed like all his godfather wanted was for him to be himself and to have a happy, normal life. He'd given up on that ideal long ago, but Sirius wanted to give it back. The corners of Harry's lips turned upward. "Yes."

"Good," Sirius smiled. "Now that that's sorted, I want to know what you expect from _me_."

Harry's jaw dropped, certain that he must have misunderstood Sirius's question. "N-Nothing."

"Come on, Harry," Sirius chided affectionately. "You have a right to expect certain things from your guardian. You must have been able to depend on even the Dursleys for _something_."

Harry considered this assertion carefully. Had anything been consistent about his life at 4 Privet Drive? Punishments, maybe; insults definitely. But he didn't think those were the kinds of answers Sirius was looking for. After riddling it out, Harry was able to come up with one thing he had been able to expect from his aunt and uncle: "Clothes".

A light flashed through Sirius's gray eyes and the hand that was not on Harry's shoulder clenched into a fist. "Well, you can absolutely count on _necessities_ while you live with me. Clothes, a roof, school supplies…" There was a pause, and Harry could hear his godfather's breathing become deep and slow, as if the man was trying to control himself. "Harry…you didn't say 'food'. I need to know… _Did the Dursleys ever starve you_?" The question was slow and deliberate, and the younger wizard looked away from Sirius's intense gaze. He'd given his word to be honest, but he was ashamed to answer. What would his guardian think of him? Probably that he was too weak to stand up for himself and that he was a burdensome troublemaker if he was denied food so often.

"Only when I was being punished." He tried to play this off casually, but Sirius saw right through that scheme.

"And how often were you 'punished'?"

 _All the time._ "It really wasn't that bad, Sirius," Harry insisted weakly, grasping at straws now. "Sometimes it probably wasn't even on purpose. They just forgot that I was locked in my cupboard and…"

He realized his mistake after the words had left his mouth. An appalled look spread over Sirius's features. "'Your cupboard'? What are you talking about, Harry?"

Harry fidgeted nervously with his hands, flushing red with humiliation. "Well…um…until I was eleven, my room was in the cupboard under the stairs. When the Dursleys got really angry with me…they locked me up in there."

Harry didn't even have to look at Sirius to know that he was furious. The waves of anger radiating off the older wizard were palpable. The dark-haired man stood and began pacing back in forth in front of the fireplace. He did so in complete silence for several minutes. When Sirius finally spoke, he didn't yell like Harry had been expecting. In fact, his voice was deceptively calm.

"A cupboard," he repeated. "They kept you in _a cupboard_ for ten years and starved you." Sirius ran a hand through his hair and sunk to his knees in front of Harry, reaching up to cup the younger wizard's face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Harry." Of all the things Harry had been expecting Sirius to say, an apology certainly hadn't been one of them. He looked up into Sirius's stormy gray eyes and saw sadness and affection in their depths. "I'm so sorry those things happened to you. You didn't deserve any of it." He brushed Harry's cheek with one of his thumbs. "I haven't been a good godfather." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius cut him off. "I haven't. If I'd put you first, from the beginning…but things will be different now. No one is going to harm you again. Not while I'm around."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. Ron and Hermione had stuck their necks out for him before; his professors—Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Lupin, and even _Snape—_ had kept him out of trouble during his years at Hogwarts. But this was the first time that anyone had ever promised to protect him. Harry wasn't sure why it mattered so much—maybe because he was conscious of all the danger that had surrounded him during his short life—but Sirius's declaration carried an enormous weight. Only someone who cared and worried about and _wanted_ him would promise something like that. Harry wished he could tell Sirius how much this vow meant to him.

He wanted so badly to tell his godfather that he loved him, but he didn't know how.

Harry had _never_ spoken those three simple but important words, and he was afraid that his voice would fail if he tried. So he settled on: "Thank you, Sirius."

The dark-haired wizard smiled, and Harry noticed that this made the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Anything for you, kiddo." He pat Harry's shoulder before standing up and stretching his arms over his head. "Well," Sirius yawned, "I'm going to go get dressed. Why don't you snag your broom, and we can practice a little of the greatest sport ever invented?"

The light returned to Harry's eyes and he snapped up from his seat on the couch eagerly. "Sure!"

"That's the spirit!" Sirius grinned excitedly. "Race you to the top of the stairs. On your mark…get set…go!"

Harry was more prepared this time when his godfather suggested they race. It was remarkable how Sirius could be so mature in one moment, like a parent, and then act like a teenager a moment later. Then again, Sirius had been thrown into prison at a young age. It made sense that he was still stuck in the juncture between adolescence and adulthood.

Despite his godfather's best racing efforts—which included jumping over various pieces of furniture—Harry made it to the staircase first. Sirius tried to push his way past on the stairs, but the green-eyed wizard cut off all his attempts. Reaching the landing, he turned around and beamed triumphantly. "I beat you. Again."

"Hey, the last time was a tie!" Sirius reminded him. "Besides, I beat you to the Whomping Willow a while back."

Harry raised an eyebrow, amused. "That wasn't a race, Sirius."

"I'm counting it." The older man reached up and ruffled his godson's hair, a gesture that Harry liked more and more each time Sirius did it.

The two wizards parted ways—Sirius to his bedroom and Harry to his. Despite his guardian's assurance that it need not be spotless, Harry still felt guilty leaving his perfect room in this state. He made the bed and took his clothes out of his trunk, carefully placing them in the wardrobe. His schoolbooks went onto his new desk. Harry closed the trunk and gave his room another sweep with his eyes, whistling in disbelief. Dudley would throw a fit if he knew that his cousin's room was now bigger and nicer than his, and that thought gave Harry a bit of satisfaction. He almost wished he could show the Dursleys his new house, just to see the looks on their incredulous faces at its sheer size, but Harry ultimately decided that the last thing he wanted was for this place to be contaminated by his mean-spirited relatives.

After putting on his shoes, Harry grabbed the Firebolt from its place on the wall and raced back downstairs to the den to wait for Sirius. He sat on the couch and tapped his foot for a few minutes before spying a messy pile of parchments on one of the end tables. Curious, he craned his neck, trying to read the writing, as the top page was upside down from his perspective. When this failed, he got up and walked over to the table, turning the parchment so that he could read it.

"Find something interesting?"

Harry nearly jumped, and his quick movements caused a quarter of the precariously piled sheets to fly everywhere. He dropped to his knees and tried desperately to gather the escaping pages before Sirius had time to get mad. He was surprised when his godfather joined him on the floor, sweeping the parchments up nonchalantly. When all of the sheets had been retrieved, Sirius took Harry's pile and his own and set them back on the table, grinning.

"Well, that was fun. I usually play 52 Pickup with cards, though."

Harry's green eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. "You mean…you're not angry?"

Sirius turned to Harry, raising an eyebrow. "Why would I be? It was an accident."

 _That wouldn't matter to the Dursleys,_ Harry scoffed before chiding himself. _But Sirius is definitely_ _ **not**_ _the Dursleys, like he said before._ "I was looking at them when I shouldn't have…"

The Animagus laughed. "An honorable Potter family tradition."

That brought a smile to Harry's lips. Usually, being referred to as a Potter was an insult, especially when rule-breaking was involved. But Sirius made it sound like a good, natural thing. "What is all this?" Harry asked, gesturing to the pile of parchment.

Sirius looked at the pile, then back at Harry. "Just things for work."

"You've got a job?" Harry was impressed and surprised that the Azkaban escapee had been able to get back into the swing of normal life so easily.

"Well, sort of. It's more like a volunteer position."

"Where are you volunteering?" Harry inquired curiously.

A smirk stretched across Sirius's thin face. "The Hogwarts Board of Governors."

The green-eyed teenager's jaw dropped. Wasn't that the group that had suspended Dumbledore during second year? The group that Mr. Malfoy had complained to about Buckbeak? And now Sirius was a member? His shock was quickly overtaken by glee. This was a good thing! Sirius was a good-hearted and reasonable—yet passionate—person who wouldn't allow himself to be pushed around by the likes of Mr. Malfoy. If anyone could change the Board for the better, it would be Sirius. And if he was supervising the goings-on at Hogwarts, maybe his godfather would be able to visit from time to time. "That's brilliant!"

"It will be better than sitting around all day once you go back to school." If Harry wasn't mistaken, there was a note of sadness in Sirius's voice, but it was gone by the older wizard's next sentence. "Can you keep a secret?" Harry nodded eagerly, dying to know what his godfather would say. Sirius grinned and leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "Hogwarts is going to be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year."

His guardian's gray eyes were filled with excitement. Harry had no idea what Sirius was talking about, but it must be big. At the risk of sounding ignorant, he inquired, "The Triwizard Tournament?"

Sirius didn't miss a beat, as though he'd been anticipating the need for an explanation. "It's a contest between Hogwarts and the two other largest wizarding schools in Europe. Each school picks a champion, and they compete in a series of tasks for fame and fortune." He ran a hand through his long dark hair. "After 200 years of not having one, there are tons of permits I need to get filled out."

"Why hasn't there been one in so long?" It sounded pretty cool, like of like a wizard version of the Olympics. Harry hadn't even known there _were_ other wizarding schools in Europe. He wondered where they were and how different they were from Hogwarts.

"In general, the tournament has a reputation for being extremely dangerous. Last time, a cockatrice nearly took off the judges' heads." Harry shivered, his enthusiasm for the competition dampened. He hoped he wouldn't be chosen as the Hogwarts champion. He'd had enough near-death experiences at school to last a lifetime. Sirius mistook his tremor as anticipation. "Don't get any ideas about entering, Harry James. The Ministry has barred underage wizards from competing."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Don't worry," he assured Sirius. "I'm fine with just watching." Despite what Snape believed, Harry had no interest in fame and didn't get a kick out of life-threatening activities. "Would you have entered, Sirius? If the tournament had been held while you were at school?"

His godfather pondered the question for a minute, brow furrowing up as he considered his answer. "I probably would have thrown in my name, just for fun. I doubt that I would have been chosen, though."

"Would my father have entered, do you think?"

Sirius grinned. "Your father wouldn't have passed up that opportunity up for the world." The Animagus ruffled his black hair cockily and made circles with his hands, pressing them against his eyes in the imitation of glasses. "If I win the Triwizard Cup, Lily will _have_ to marry me!"

Harry smiled at Sirius's impersonation of his father. "Would my mother have been impressed?"

A barking laugh. "Lily Evans? Hardly. Likely she would have yelled at your father for being an arrogant show-off with a death wish." Sirius's gray eyes twinkled in memory. "But I'll bet my last Galleon that she would have come to every task to cheer James on…silently, of course."

The young wizard's heart leapt. He'd never had a real conversation about his parents before. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had forbidden him from asking about his deceased family. Hagrid and Dumbledore had dropped a few bits of information here and there, but the Headmaster's anecdotes all centered on his parents' deaths. Harry didn't want to hear any more about that night. He wanted to know what kind of people his parents were before the war, before they had been killed and become martyrs. The closest he'd gotten was last year when Snape had yelled at him about James saving his life and Professor Lupin had explained the origins of the Marauders. There were so many questions that Harry still wanted to ask, and Sirius had all the answers. But he wouldn't overwhelm his godfather all at once. Just getting responses to his simple queries—and from someone who had obviously loved his parents—was more than Harry could have ever hoped for.

"Well," proclaimed Sirius, retrieving a broomstick from where he had leaned it up against the wall. "I'm ready for some Quidditch. How about you?" Harry nodded excitedly, picking up his own broom from the couch. Sirius eyed his flying device intently. "How's the Firebolt treating you, by the way?"

"Oh, it's brilliant!" the green-eyed wizard exclaimed. "I won the Quidditch cup with this broom! It's super-fast and handles so smoothly…" His voice trailed off as a smile of realization spread across his face. "So it _was_ you who sent it."

The exonerated prisoner held up his right hand. "Guilty, for a change. Consider it thirteen years-worth of Christmas presents from me." Sirius motioned with his head and Harry followed him towards the back door. "I'm sorry if I caused a ruckus by sending it anonymously."

Harry shrugged. "What were you supposed to do? Attach a note?"

Sirius smirked. "That would have gone over splendidly." As he opened the door to the yard, Sirius composed the hypothetical letter. " _Merry Christmas from your psychotic godfather. P.S. Your teacher is a werewolf and your friend's rat is a mass murderer_."

In spite of the allusion to Pettigrew, Harry burst into laughter. It sounded like something that Fred and George would have written. The Weasley twins weren't yet aware of their idols' true identities, but it was uncanny how much they resembled the teenage part of Sirius's personality. "Somehow I don't think Professor McGonagall would have found that funny."

"Well, Minnie needs to lighten up a bit, because that one was gold." Sirius knelt down on the deck, opening the Quidditch chest sitting outside the door and rummaging around inside.

" _Minnie?_ Don't tell me you actually called Professor McGonagall that to her face."

Sirius flashed the younger wizard a toothy grin over his shoulder. "'McGonagall' has too many syllables, don't you think? I had to come up with something more manageable."

Harry was flabbergasted by his godfather's nerve. "How did you survive long enough to graduate?"

"I'd like to think it was my irreplaceable wit, charm, and good looks."

That got another chuckle out of Harry. "So, how are we going to play with only the two of us?"

"Well," Sirius removed the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch from the chest, "I was thinking that you could try to catch the Snitch, and I could try to knock you off your broom. Whoever succeeds gets a point. First one to ten points wins. That sound fair?"

It sounded crazy and fun. Harry had always been able to rely on his team's Beaters to protect him from Bludgers, but now he and Sirius would both be on their own. Having to dodge his godfather's blows would add an extra challenge to the game. "Sounds perfect!"

Sirius grinned and tossed the Bludgers to Harry, keeping the Snitch for himself. "You fly that end of the pitch," he pointed, "and I'll fly to the other. Then on the count of three, we'll release the balls, and the game will begin." Harry nodded and took off from the ground, flying to his side of the pitch and holding the Bludgers securely to his chest. Turning his broomstick around, he spotted Sirius on the opposite end, bat in hand. His godfather nodded and Harry nodded back, signifying that he was ready. The hand which held the Snitch raised in the air and held up one finger. Then two.

Three.

Harry tossed the Bludgers into the air, and they shot off in either direction. At the same time, he saw the Snitch fly from Sirius's hand in a flash of gold. His green, trained eyes locked onto the hummingbird-like object and the teenage wizard shot off in pursuit of the Snitch.

Harry loved flying. After being cooped up in 4 Privet Drive for more than half of his life, being free in the endless blue sky felt so joyfully liberating. When he was shooting around the Quidditch field, chasing the feisty Snitch, he was able to leave all his burdens and responsibilities as the Boy-Who-Lived behind and be Harry. Just Harry. He whooped in exhilaration as he went into a downward loop towards his target, a sound of glee that was echoed by Sirius a ways off. Maybe his guardian, who had been locked up even longer than Harry had, got the same sort of release while flying. Harry enjoyed the thought that they might have another thing in common.

Just as the dark-haired teenager neared the Snitch and was reaching out to grab it, he saw a blur of movement in his peripheral vision. Harry dropped his altitude suddenly and the Bludger missed him by inches. He shot a look at his godfather—who was grinning from ear to ear—and was amazed by the power of Sirius's blow. The other wizard wasn't pulling any punches. Time for Harry to get serious too.

His green eyes darted around, quickly relocating the Snitch. Last time, he'd gone for it in a fairly straight-forward path, making his movements easily predictable to Sirius, who was currently off chasing the other Bludger, while trying to avoid being accidentally knocked from his own broom. This time, Harry would switch things up a bit.

Guiding his Firebolt in a zigzag pattern, Harry crossed back and forth over the pitch, making some of his turns sharper than others so that Sirius would have a harder time calculating his path. Getting above the Snitch, Harry aimed slightly to the left. He dove downwards, and when he saw a Bludger in his line of vision, veered to the right just in time. His hand touched the Snitch, but the mischievous golden object flitted away before he could firmly grasp it.

So close! Harry knew he could get it this time. He was learning Sirius's rhythm and had a good idea of how long it took his godfather to catch a Bludger and line up a shot. Just one more chance. It was time to show Sirius what his gift was truly capable of.

Harry flew high, high above the horizon line, until the Snitch was only a pinprick in his vision. It would be nearly impossible for the older wizard to hit him accurately at this height, and by the time he was in Sirius's line of fire, it would be too late. Making a few rough estimates, Harry determined where the Golden Snitch would likely be once he reached it. Taking a deep breath, he launched himself into a spiraling tailspin towards the ground. He slowed as he approached the golden ball, reaching out to grasp it. Something whipped by above him, and Harry grinned. Sirius's blow had been just off course. He had to hand it to his godfather, though. For someone who had been locked in Azkaban for twelve years, the gray-eyed wizard was still physically strong and very quick-minded.

What Harry realized all too late was that Sirius's last Bludger hadn't been aimed at him. It was aimed at the other Bludger, whipping by on the opposite side of him. The ball Sirius hit ricocheted off the one in motion and came hurtling back towards Harry. His right arm out to catch the Snitch, all of the younger wizard's weight was perched on his left hand, which was physically weaker. When the Bludger caught the right side of Harry's broom, he topped over and lost grip of the handle.

Harry began tumbling to the ground, slightly panicked. He'd only fallen off his broomstick once before, and Dumbledore had made certain that he landed safely. But he'd never been taught how to land if he fell off his broom.

He only had a split second to be afraid before warm, calloused fingers curled around his wrist, stopping his movement. Harry's green eyes looked up into Sirius's warm gray ones. The older wizard was smiling, but not in a cocky way. "I've got you, Harry," his godfather said softly. "I won't let you fall. I promise."

Harry's heart fluttered. He believed Sirius. He trusted those words with all his heart. The long-haired man pulled Harry up onto his own broomstick. Once they were safely on the ground and Sirius had retrieved the Firebolt, he looked over his shoulder and gave Harry a triumphant grin. "Sirius Black: 1; Harry Potter: 0."

The Boy-Who-Lived smiled back, a competitive light in his eyes. "Not for long." He was determined to win this game.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long update time on this one. As it always does, life ensued. Add to that the fact I can't write Quidditch to save my life. The next few updates will (hopefully) be quick, as I want to upload Harry's birthday chapter on his actual birthday.

Speaking of birthdays, today is my Golden Birthday, everyone! The best present you could give me would be a review :)

A big thanks once again to everyone who has favorited and followed the story so far, and an extra-special shout out to ActualWeeb, mrsspecialk, jogger, Padfoot120, Alexis, Guest #1, Jessie May Stone, Guest #2, vonny25, and Guest #3 for their reviews of Chapter Three. You guys are the reason I keep writing! Thank you in particular for Alexis's spotting of my typo and for all of you who have given me ideas going forward. I hope you like the next few chapters. I'm excited for them.

Next time—Harry is initiated into the Marauders and the Dursleys get what's coming to them.


	5. A Midnight Romp

Sirius stretched his arms over his head, cracking his knuckles, and looked down in satisfaction at the completed pile of parchment. He'd made significant progress on the giant stack that had been foisted off on him by the Board. He was the most junior member, and therefore stuck with all the grunt work. Sirius couldn't help but feel that this was cosmic payback for something that he had done in his youth.

He'd gotten a couple of good, solid hours of work in tonight, after his godson had gone off to take his bath and then to bed. A grin quirked the corners of Sirius's lips. That soaker tub had been an excellent investment. Harry, who'd probably couldn't remember having a decent bath, had reacted like a child the first time he'd ecstatically tried out the jets, bubble machine, and colored lights. The sight had warmed Sirius's heart in a way he couldn't quite explain—almost like he was recreating the lost memories that the two of them might have made during Harry's childhood, but for Pettigrew and Azkaban.

Nevertheless, these past few days had been absolutely idyllic. The two wizards had spent their time exploring the house and getting better acquainted with one another. Being around Harry was like having Sirius's two best friends back. His godson had James's strength and vivacity as well as Lily's intelligence and thoughtful nature. Every day with the green-eyed wizard was an adventure, whether they were playing Exploding Snap, sharing a meal, fooling around with Snape's Potions homework, or swapping crazy Hogwarts yarns. And every single day, Sirius grew to love Harry more and more. His godson was a brilliant ray of sunshine in his otherwise dark and cold existence. The former prisoner knew he didn't deserve this kind of happiness—especially not with James and Lily's son—but he couldn't help himself. After being alone for so long, Sirius had anchored himself emotionally to his godson. Harry was his reason for living.

The young wizard had been opening up to Sirius bit by bit, and seemed much more comfortable and assertive around him than he had before. But there were still moments when Harry's green eyes darted around skittishly—when he backed himself against the wall and began to apologize, looking like he expected Sirius to raise a hand to him. It took every ounce of self-control in his being for the Animagus not to explode with anger during these episodes. He wanted to destroy everything within reach whenever he saw such fear in his godson's expression. How dare those damned Dursleys mistreat an innocent child? How dare Dumbledore not do anything to stop it? How dare Pettigrew and Voldemort take away Harry's loving parents? How dare Sirius allow it to happen?

Despite the overwhelming rage he felt, Sirius never allowed his temper to take control. He had caught on quickly that Harry would mistakenly believe the fury to be directed _at_ him, instead of in his defense. So instead, Sirius would stand an arms-length away and quietly explain to Harry why he was not in trouble until the teenager's subconscious physical defenses relaxed themselves.

This was only one of the troubling habits that Sirius was struggling to break his godson of. Harry's appetite had been improving, but he would often forget about meals until his godfather reminded him. Harry ate quickly and filled up fast, which was a sign of severe malnutrition.

The younger wizard also had this bizarre compulsion to clean, and Sirius knew that Harry didn't tidy fastidiously because he _wanted_ to. His godson had let it slip one day that he feared being seen as a burden, and that cleaning was his "payment" for living here. In that moment, the sickened older wizard realized just who had been required to keep the house at Privet Drive so impossibly clean.

No matter how many times Sirius had explained, Harry still didn't comprehend that it was absolutely unnecessary to "earn his keep". The house was just as much Harry's as it was Sirius's. But try as he might, his godson still thought of himself as a lodger—someone who could be ejected at a moment's notice. Except for his room, Harry tried not to leave any trace that he lived in the large house. He used an "indoor voice" whenever possible. Sirius had even caught him doing homework in the dead of night, though that could be partially attributed to how horribly messed-up Harry's internal clock was.

All this was infuriating enough, but to add insult to injury, the villains responsible had gotten away with it scot free. Sirius couldn't abide the thought that the monsters who had abused his godson would escape punishment from the Muggle and wizarding worlds alike. He'd stewed over this miscarriage of justice and decided that unless some sort of retribution was visited upon the Dursleys, a part of him—and perhaps a part of Harry too—would never be able to move on.

Sirius scribbled a quick note and left it on the table, apart from his work. He didn't want Harry to panic if he woke up and found his guardian missing. He walked into the unlit fireplace with purpose, taking a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle. "Number 10, Shandy Street," he said as clearly, but quietly, as possible, so as not to disturb his (hopefully) sleeping godson. The green flames engulfed him and he shot through the Floo Network like a bullet. His dog senses were vigilant, as he'd nearly missed the small, inconspicuous fireplace on his previous visit. Luckily, he recognized his own scent on the proper destination this time, and exited the Network accordingly.

"Shandy Street" might as well be renamed "Shanty Street", in Sirius's opinion. The poky two-and-a-half room apartment, while tidy and well-organized by its lone occupant, was falling apart. The wallpaper was faded and peeling, there were large tears in the vinyl flooring, and several cracks in the ceiling and windows had been patched or boarded up. All of the furniture was secondhand and appeared to have served as accommodations for vermin at some point. The size and state of the whole place screamed "fire hazard".

"Who's there?" a voice demanded from the shadows. The soft tone was deceptive, as Sirius knew that his interrogator could quickly tear him limb from limb if he so desired.

"Well, it isn't burglars, Remus," he snarked in response. "That would imply you had something worth stealing."

The frail sandy-haired man sighed and came into the light, rubbing his temples and looking quite tired. "Do you have any idea what time it is, Sirius? No sane, law-abiding citizens make house calls past midnight."

"Well thank Merlin those terms don't apply to me," Sirius grinned, taking a tentative seat on the least mouse-chewed chair. "I'm a former resident of Azkaban, in case you'd forgotten."

"How could I forget that?" A small smile touched Remus's lips as he sat down on the couch opposite. "I _always_ said that you'd end up in Azkaban."

The dog Animagus rolled his eyes. "Yes, but your over-active imagination thought I was going to end up there for _pranks._ Back when I was a _teenager_." The werewolf had always been a notorious worrier, tending to catastrophize absolutely everything. When the Marauders had hexed the Sorting Hat in sixth year, Remus had been positive that they were going to be expelled. And when they didn't get caught or punished by the school, he'd come to the frantic conclusion that it was because they were about to be arrested by the Ministry and thrown in jail for life.

"You and James were just lucky that the teachers never had enough evidence to do more than give you detention." Remus flicked his wand and a faded tea set floated over from the kitchenette. The weathered teapot poured its contents into two cups, which glided into the hands of either wizard. Lifting the cup to his lips, Sirius was amused to find it filled with hot chocolate instead of tea. His friend hadn't changed in all these years.

"Getting Gryffindor's golden child to cover up our trail didn't hurt either," Sirius jibed teasingly.

This prompted Remus to take a large swig of his hot chocolate. "Don't remind me of how often I abused my prefect authority for you, Sirius. I can't believe how many crazy schemes I let you rope me into."

"You had fun. Admit it. What would you have done at Hogwarts without us?"

"Lived a peaceful existence," the werewolf retorted with a scowl. "Had a spotless academic record. Gotten enough sleep. Not have worried constantly about being kicked out of school." After letting his reproach hang in the air for a moment, Remus's expression softened. "I also would have missed out on the happiest time of my life, and the best friends I could have asked for."

It was Sirius's turn to frown. "Well…"

"Sirius, no. Don't even start. No matter what came after we graduated, the Marauders were the truest friends that Hogwarts has ever known. Three of them still are."

The gray-eyed wizard sighed, letting his self-depreciating arguments drop. There were more pressing matters things at hand than dwelling on the past. "I need your help with something important, Remus. It's about Harry."

Remus set his cup gingerly down on the lopsided table between them, leaning forward in interest. "I figured it was important, for you to come at this hour. Did you and Harry have a fight or something?"

Sirius chuckled. "Hardly. Harry is as good as gold. Surprising, really, considering who his father was."

"He takes after Lily a great deal," Remus agreed. "But I wouldn't worry about it too much. He's at that age. Once he's comfortable enough, I'm sure the two of you will have your fair share of disagreements."

 _I hope so_. Not that Sirius wanted to fight with Harry, necessarily. He just wanted the teenager to trust him enough to _have_ an argument. "Anyway, back on topic: I need your expertise. You're the only one I can come to for something like this, Moony."

Remus visibly steeled himself at the invocation of his old nickname. "For what?"

 _Better to make it quick, like ripping off a bandage._ "Pulling off some Muggle pranks."

His friend didn't even leave enough pause for Sirius to take a breath. "No."

"But—"

" _No._ N-O. I don't know what kind of mischief you're planning, but I won't have any part of it." There was a moment of silence before something else occurred to Remus. "And don't you go dragging Harry into your insanity either."

"You don't know why—"

"I don't need to," Remus interrupted again. "Going around pranking innocent Muggles is _not_ something that a responsible guardian should be doing or encouraging."

"That's the _thing_!" Sirius interjected quickly, trying to get a word in edgewise before the responsibility police cut him off again. "They _aren't_ innocent. We'll be going after the Dursleys."

Remus's chestnut-colored eyes got big. "No! Absolutely not! Do you not understand how much trouble Harry will be in if you do that?"

"They'll never know it was us!" the Animagus insisted. "No one will see us. And the fools will never expect wizards to use a _non-magical_ means of attack."

"So just who do you think they'll blame? Who else would target them?"

Sirius shrugged. "People like that are bound to have other enemies, Moony. Trust me. I'm sure half their son's school would line up for a chance to serve the lard his _just desserts_."

Remus didn't find his wordplay particularly clever. "You can't. I won't let you. I don't care how unpleasant they are. Something that foolhardy—"

"They _abused_ Harry." The room went completely silent; only the faint buzzing of the decrepit refrigerator could be heard. Sirius let his accusation sink in before he continued, speaking slowly and softly so as not to fly off the handle. "Not just emotionally, but physically too." The dark-haired wizard hadn't pried into Harry's past after their conversation a few days ago; his godson's wounds were obviously very deep. But Harry _had_ let a few things slip on his own, and the rest Sirius had pieced together from the way he and the Dursleys acted. "They degraded him and insulted James and Lily to his face. They gave him only things they had cast off and never allowed him to ask for anything more. They treated him like their slave and made him live in fear of punishment. They kept him locked up in a cupboard until he was eleven. They _starved_ him, Remus."

That was the last straw. The brown-haired wizard bared his teeth and growled in rage. Sirius had finally awakened the werewolf that lived caged just behind his friend's unassuming façade. Wolves were fanatically loyal to their packmates, and Remus had always considered James and Lily—and by extension, Harry—to be members of his pack. Moony was just as furious about their cub being hurt as Padfoot was.

Sirius gave the brunette a moment to stew in his anger. When Remus finally collected himself enough to speak, his voice was soft and dangerous "We'll give Harry the choice to participate or not..."

"That kind of defeats the point of initiation."

" _Padfoot_ ," Remus chided, a bit of playfulness returning to his worn-out expression.

Sirius sighed. "Fine. We'll let him opt out. But not without teasing him mercilessly."

"Don't worry, Padfoot." Remus grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Even if Harry just watches, you and I will give him a once-in-a-lifetime pranking demonstration."

"I knew it!" the Animagus exclaimed, getting excited. "There's still a Marauder in you after all, Moony!"

Remus rolled his eyes, but pulled out a quill and parchment nonetheless. "Now as for pranks, I've got tons of ideas…"

* * *

Sirius and Remus spent the next two hours drawing up their master plan and gathering the needed supplies. Remus had never been a packrat—that was decidedly Sirius's and, unsurprisingly, Pettigrew's role—but he did have a few useful household objects. The other provisions were gleaned from London's heaven-sent 24-hour stores. After preparations were complete, Remus set off for the Dursley's with the supplies while Sirius Flooed home to rouse their unsuspecting third participant.

Sirius felt a small sting of guilt for waking Harry from his well-deserved rest, especially since sleep seemed like one more thing that his awful relatives had deprived him of. But Harry would only be a teenager once; late night excursions were among the most thrilling parts of youth. Besides, his godson was free to sleep in all day long tomorrow. It's not like they had any place to go.

The Animagus slowly and quietly opened the door to Harry's room, not wanting to _startle_ the teenager awake. Thanking all the canine gods for his excellent night vision, Sirius crept through the dark room to Harry's wardrobe. Easing the doors open, he rummaged through his godson's clothes until he came upon a robe. Pulling it free from the wardrobe, Sirius draped the garment over his arm and slunk silently to Harry's bed.

His godson looked so peaceful—so unburned by all of the worries and responsibility that haunted his waking moments. It really was a shame to wake him from what Sirius hoped was a pleasant dream. But hopefully this adventure would be well worth the loss of sleep. After brushing the hair from Harry's eyes and caressing his cheek affectionately, the older wizard's pale hand came to rest on his godson's shoulder, which it began to gently shake.

"Harry….Harry, wake up."

The dark-haired teen stirred awake fairly easy. He yawned and squinted up into the face of the man interrupting his slumber. "Sirius?" a drowsy voice questioned.

The gray-eyed wizard laid Harry's robe on the bed beside him. "Put this on. We're going somewhere."

The younger wizard didn't ask questions. He pulled himself to a sitting position and dressed himself groggily. Sirius found a pair of shoes by the door and tossed them to Harry one at a time. Once his shoes were done up, his glasses on, and his robe lazily donned over his pajamas, Sirius took his godson by the hand. If Harry wasn't awake now, he soon would be.

"Have you ever Apparated before?" Sirius inquired. Harry drowsily shook his head, looking a bit puzzled by the question. It occurred to Sirius that, having been raised among Muggles, his godson might not even know what Apparation was. "I need you to hold onto me as tightly as you can. No matter what happens, _don't let go_."

Harry squeezed Sirius's hand firmly and raised his other hand to grasp his guardian's forearm, his green eyes filled with nervousness. The older wizard smiled reassuringly and placed his other hand over the one his arm, clasping it securely.

Confident that he wouldn't lose his dear godson in the inevitable chaos, Sirius took a deep breath and pictured the Dursley's horrid little house on Privet Drive. The moment he did so, everything went dark. The wind was knocked out of him as his body hurtled through a vast void of space, squeezing him like a vice from all sides. The crushing darkness was so empty that, for a few moments, the only thing that Sirius was conscious of was the small, warm hand in his.

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity—but was really less than a minute—the void regurgitated its two passengers onto the sidewalk, just a few houses down from Number 4. Sirius took a moment to catch his breath while Harry doubled over, coughing and swaying on his feet. The gray-eyed wizard caught his godson by the shoulders, steadying him. "You all right?" Harry nodded, wheezing a few more times before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking a bit green around the gills. "Yeah," Sirius sympathized. "Apparation isn't my transportation of choice as far as comfort goes. But it can't be beat for speed."

Harry straightened up and surveyed his destination; suddenly, he looked sicker than before. Sirius didn't blame him. If he'd had his way, neither of them would see this hellhole ever again. After Harry came of age, Sirius was determined that they never would.

A thought occurred to the Animagus: Harry had been worried all this time about being kicked out of their house. That was why he still acted like a servant or an outsider at times. Now, more than ever, was a crucial moment to put those concerns to rest.

"I'm not giving you back," Sirius avowed, hopefully before the fear had a chance to enter his godson's mind. "Not now, not ever." He tilted Harry's chin up with his fingers so that their eyes met. "Do you believe me?"

Harry's green eyes peered into Sirius's for a moment before he nodded slowly. He didn't look completely sure, but his posture had relaxed noticeably. The older wizard ruffled his godson's hair, knowing that Harry liked that. Sure enough, a small smile touched the teenager's lips. "You belong with me now. Nothing will change my mind about that."

Sirius wrapped an arm around his godson's shoulders and led him towards the Dursley's. As they got closer, the gray-eyed man winced. The irritating sound of white noise was becoming louder and louder. Harry raised his hands to his ears, blocking out the buzzing that threatened to penetrate their very brains.

Ever so faintly, wherever the moonlight hit at the correct angle, Sirius could see a shimmering barrier around the Dursley's house. His sharp gray eyes found a small opening in the transparent barricade, which he took Harry through. No sooner had they done this than the gap closed behind them. Remus, who had been sitting by the doorway, got up to great them.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry looked at the other man curiously.

"Hello Harry." The brunette wizard gave him a gentle smile. "It's good to see you again. But I'm no longer your professor. You can just call me Remus."

Sirius rolled his eyes playfully. "Let's be real for a moment: he's never going to call you that."

Remus frowned, but Sirius could tell from the amusement in his friend's brown eyes that he wasn't truly offended. "Oh? Why's that?"

"Did _you_ ever call a professor by their first name? Or any other adult? It's weird."

" _You_ called McGonagall by her first name, you hypocrite," Remus continued to banter. "And I'm pretty sure that Harry doesn't call you 'Mr. Black'."

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. "That's entirely different. I'm his guardian."

Remus's eyes drifted back to the younger wizard. "My condolences."

"Why you…"

Harry—who had realized that the spat was all in good fun—chuckled. "It'll take some getting used to, but I'll try Pr- Remus…"

"No, no, no. That's just too bizarre," Sirius shook his head in mock disapproval. "We'll give you something better to call him, Harry."

Remus groaned. "Fantastic. And here I thought I'd escaped that name after…" He froze, obviously not wanting to flat-out mention what had happened thirteen years ago.

Sirius jumped in, covering the awkward pause. "You'll never escape, Remus. Once a Marauder, always a Marauder." The gray-eyed Animagus looked around, annoyed by how incredibly empty and silent this entire neighborhood was. "You've taken care of security, I trust?"

The werewolf nodded. "Disillusionment, Muffilato, and Muggle-Repelling Charms, as well as a few protective wards. Our presence should go completely unnoticed."

Sirius gave Remus a grateful smile before turning back to Harry, jerking a thumb in his friend's direction. "Always keep a know-it-all around, Harry. They're good for all these tedious, smart things."

"And what exactly are the arrogant goof-offs good for?"

"Shove it, Remus." It was difficult for Sirius to maintain his joking scowl when Harry kept laughing, sounding so very happy and carefree. "Let's get on with important matters, shall we?"

"Indeed." The mousey, brown-haired wizard knelt down on the lawn. Sirius took a seat beside him and gestured for Harry to sit facing the two of them. The teenager complied, his green eyes flickering back and forth between the two older men curiously.

Reaching into his robe, Remus produced a sheet of parchment that the Sirius and Harry immediately recognized as the Marauder's Map. The former professor held the artifact out on both palms. "Place your left hand on the map, Harry." He did so. "Now raise your right." Harry raised the appendage. Remus nodded in approval and shot a sidelong glance at Sirius, a signal for him to begin.

"Harry James Potter," Sirius spoke in a quiet, intense voice. "Do you solemnly swear that you are up to no good? That you will aid in purveying mischief, spreading mayhem, and bringing seditious joy to whatever place and people may stand in need of it? That you will maintain confidentiality of all pranks and other top secret information entrusted to you? That you will remain a loyal Marauder no matter what forces combine against you?"

The corners of Harry's lips quirked upward in amusement. Sirius had to admit, the oath they had written as students _was_ a bit pretentious. But they were eleven-year-old boys swept up in their cleverness and Remus's expansive vocabulary. What else could be expected? "I swear it," Harry promised.

"And do you accept the rights and privileges that come with being a Marauder? Unhindered access to the Marauder's Map, an equal portion of all plunder and contraband goods, the use of our secret aliases, and protection given by your fellow Marauders—even at the cost of peril?"

The last part of the oath was a bit more serious than the rest. Back in their first year, the Marauders' idea of "peril" had been detention. But over time, that phrase had been invoked as justification for—among other things—becoming Animagi, picking fights with the more aggressive members of Slytherin's Quidditch team, and rebelling against the Black family. After graduation, the consequences of their oath had become far graver. But still, Sirius had never expected one of the Marauders to so shamelessly violate their bond of friendship. _Damn you, Pettigrew._

"I do," Harry averred after the slightest of pauses.

"Then by the authority vested in us as founders, we officially induct you into the Marauders. From henceforth, you shall be known as 'Prongslet'." Harry's Patronus had taken the form of a stag, just like James's. Sirius had no doubt that his godson's Animagus form would be the same. Harry possessed the same bravery, nobility, and strength of spirit which were at the core of James's transformations. Remus had agreed on this choice of nickname, adding that it would help Harry feel close to his father without making him feel like a "replacement goldfish".

"Congratulations," Remus commended Harry dryly as he handed the map over to Sirius, who put it into his robe. They had both agreed that the map belonged primarily to Harry now. His godfather would return it at the end of summer, just before the teenage wizard returned to Hogwarts. "Welcome to our club of ne'er-do-wells."

"I resemble that remark, Moony," Sirius replied cheekily.

"Yes, Padfoot" the werewolf grinned. "Yes you do."

"Well, now that the formalities are out of the way," Sirius stood, extending a hand to Harry to help him to his feet. The teenager still looked slightly lost, but all that was about to change. "It's time for the good stuff, Prongslet. The Marauders' first prank in fifteen years."

Remus cleared his throat, inconveniently reminding his friend about their promise. Sirius rolled his eyes and reluctantly added: "Of course, if you want to sit back and watch…"

Too late. The pieces had already clicked. "We're pranking the Dursleys?" Harry's green eyes shone with anxious excitement. "Of course I want in on that!"

The dog Animagus shot his best friend a triumphant smirk. Remus groaned. "He's living up to his namesake already."

"Prongs Sr. would be so proud." Sirius wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, even though the sentiment was entirely genuine. He wished that James could be here, to see his son grown up.

"So what's the plan?" Harry asked, bouncing on the balls of his heels and eyeing the pranking materials that the two older wizards had amassed.

"We're going to divide the small pranks among ourselves, then tackle the larger ones together." Remus explained.

Sirius rummaged through their supplies, producing several cartons of eggs, a rubber band ball, and a roll of bubble wrap. "What'll it be for you, Prongslet? Do you want to fill the rain gutters with eggs, rubber band the mailbox shut, or bubble wrap the driveway?"

The teenager bit his lip gently, looking torn between his options. Sirius couldn't blame him: they were all fantastic. "I'll take the bubble wrap," Harry finally decided.

"Excellent choice," Sirius approved, handing over the roll to his godson. "We got the insulating kind. It's sticky around the edges, so all you need to do is unwrap it and press it down." Harry nodded and skipped off gleefully with the bubble wrap, starting near the front door.

Remus took the rubber band ball out of Sirius's hand. "I'll take this one."

"Of course. Leave the dirty work for me."

"You're not fooling anyone, Padfoot," the brunette teased. "The messy pranks were always your favorite."

The dark-haired wizard rubbed one of the egg cartons deviously. "Touché."

Remus took the ball and set to work making a lovely art piece out of the Dursley's mailbox. Sirius stacked up the egg cartons and made his way to the fence at the edge of the house, whispering " _Ascendio_." The charm gave him the boost needed to make it to the second-story roof. He opened the top carton and began filling the rain gutter with eggs, starting from the outside edge. If his hand slipped, he didn't want Harry—currently under the door—to be hit by mistake.

Sirius had wanted to simply pelt the house with eggs. Remus had nixed that idea. The dark-haired wizard suspected that his friend thought the concept too messy, or suspected it might draw attention, despite their protective measures. But Moony had covered up these possible concerns by arguing that regular egging wasn't creative enough. On some level, Sirius agreed. The idea of Harry's horrible relations being doused with breakfast food when they least suspected it was priceless. Extra points if the eggs stayed up there long enough to become rotten before becoming projectiles.

Finishing the second-story roof, Sirius leaped with doglike grace onto the roof above the garage to fill that gutter as well. Looking down, he saw Harry hard at work unrolling sheets of bubble wrap and plastering the driveway with them. There was an unmistakable smile stretching from cheek to cheek on his godson's face. Any infinitesimally small glimmer of guilt or worry that Sirius might have felt over this practical joke extravaganza vanished completely. Harry had been mistreated by these…monsters for so long. What the three wizards were doing now was nothing less than the Dursleys deserved. Their few hours of misery would never erase the years of damage that they had caused, but it was a start.

Satisfied with his work, Sirius jumped off the lower roof into the Dursley's bushes. The dents he made were honestly an improvement. He joined Harry on the drive and helped him finish laying down bubble wrap around where the car was parked, leaving just enough walking room around it. The two wizards laughed sporadically whenever one of them popped a bubble.

"Working hard or hardly working, you two?" Remus asked when they reached the sidewalk, snapping his second-to-last rubber band around the mailbox, adding to the elaborate crisscross pattern that would take forever to unravel. "Peas in a pod, you are."

"You're just jealous, Moony." Sirius reached over to ruffle his godson's hair. "Don't worry. We'll get you your own stick-in-the-mud protégé."

Remus flicked the last rubber band at his friend's forehead. The Animagus flinched and rubbed the red spot forming on his pale skin. "Ow…" he whined.

"Oh, grow up Padfoot," the werewolf grinned, winking at Harry, who chuckled.

"Prongslet! I thought you were on my side!"

"I'm on both of your sides," Harry protested through laughter.

"No!" Sirius threw his arms around the teenager's neck. "Stop trying to steal my godson, Moony!"

"Can't help it, Padfoot. I've just spent more time with him than you have."

Sirius shrugged off the more hurtful connotations of that sentence, knowing that Remus hadn't meant it like that, and pouted. "Well, a little more time will fix that. I was Prongslet's favorite when he was a baby, and I always will be."

"Were you really my favorite, Padfoot?" Harry chortled, teasingly incredulous. Sirius noted Harry's use of his Marauder nickname with pleasure.

Remus grabbed their remaining bags of pranking supplies and began to unpack several rolls of toilet paper and plastic wrap, as well as boxes of multicolored Christmas lights, petroleum jelly, and an air horn. "You mean that he hasn't bragged about it before? He hasn't told you the story of your first word?"

The teenage Marauder sobered a bit, suddenly very intent. "No. What happened?"

"Come on, Remus." Sirius blushed slightly. "He doesn't want to hear about that."

"Yes I do!" Harry insisted. "Tell me about it, Moony."

The sandy-haired wizard looked all too pleased at having the upper hand over Sirius for once. Picking up the rolls of plastic wrap, he gestured for Harry to follow him up to the car. Jumping from the lawn onto the buffer area that Sirius and Harry had left around the vehicle, Remus took a side and rolled the plastic wrap across the roof of the car. On the other side, Harry caught the roll and passed it under the car back to Remus. They continued to hand the wrap back and forth in this manner.

"Your parents were having a competition, of sorts, over what your first word would be. Naturally, Lily wanted you to say 'Mum' and James was hoping for 'Dad'. But no matter how much they coached and bribed, all you said was gibberish."

"So what happened?" Harry prodded, completely engrossed in Remus's story as they continued to smother the Dursley's car, moving towards the hood.

"Well, once a month the Marauders all had dinner together with you and your mother. I was the first to arrive, and James was at it again, trying to get you to say 'Dad'. You were hungry and fussy and none too pleased at having your annoying father pester you." Against his better judgement, Sirius chuckled at this point. He joined the other two, taking a roll from Remus and beginning to cover the trunk.

"Right at that moment," Remus continued, "Sirius finally walked in, late as usual—"

"Not my fault I was the only one with a job…" the ex-Auror grumbled blithely

"—and you squealed out, ''ad!' The entire room went quiet. James looked so thrilled. He grinned from ear to ear and pleaded with you to say it again. You held out your arms in the direction of the door and cried out, clear as a bell, 'Pad!' That's when we all realized that you weren't responding to James. You were calling for Sirius to come save you." Remus chuckled, while Sirius's cheeks turned a darker shade of red. "It was hilarious."

"For _you_ , Moony. I was banned from the Potter's for weeks. Lily shot me the glare of death at every Order meeting. I don't think she ever really forgave me."

"Don't feel sorry for him, Prongslet," Remus responded to the concerned look that Harry was sending Sirius. "At the time, he was over the moon. Never let any of us forget about it."

The dog Animagus gave a haunted smile as those happy memories flitted through his mind. The year he'd spent with the Potters prior to Voldemort's downfall remained a much cherished period in his life. For the first time since graduating from Hogwarts, Sirius had been part of a family unit: James, Lily, and baby Harry. Even with the shadow of the war looming overhead and the long spans of time Sirius sometimes spent away from Godric's Hollow working, there had still been enough time to get accustomed to the warm, loving feel of Potter Cottage. The gray-eyed wizard felt safe there; free from the darkness that threatened to infect their whole world. That was until Voldmort and Pettigrew had stolen away everyone that Sirius had ever loved and gotten him locked in Azkaban for twelve years.

"Padfoot?" Harry's gentle voice jogged his godfather from this dark reverie. "Are you all right?"

Sirius nodded and smiled at his fellow Marauders. He had Remus and Harry back now, and that was more than he could ever have hoped for. "I'd say this car is looking rather spiffy, don't you think?"

Harry laughed. "It's even shinier than when Uncle Vernon bought it. He'll be so pleased."

"You're both too much," Remus groaned, hiding a chuckle.

"You know you love us, Moony," Sirius goaded.

"'Love' is a very strong word." Remus jumped back over to the lawn, with Sirius and Harry following suit. The werewolf tossed each wizard a roll of toilet paper and then took one for himself. "Let's give them a yard to match their lovely car."

The three Marauders had a field day, papering every inch of the house and yard that they could get to. Sirius lifted Harry up on his shoulders so that the teenager could reach the roof, where he cocooned the chimney, weather vane, and drain pipe and rubbed petroleum jelly all over the windows. Remus and Sirius decorated the fence, bushes, and lawn. The werewolf had to stop Sirius from using the toilet paper to spell out exactly what he thought of the Dursleys, insisting that the message was loud and clear. Instead, Remus let his friend use a Levitation Charm to hover over the bubble wrapped porch to fix the air horn to the wall where the front door would set it off upon opening.

For their final touch, the older Marauders joined Harry on the rooftop, stringing Christmas lights along the roof's edge and watching them light up in rainbow-colored brilliance. For people who hated the "abnormal", gaudy holiday lights in July would be an absolute nightmare to the Dursleys.

Their task complete, Sirius and Remus helped Harry off the roof. They tiptoed across the weaving lines of toilet paper on the lawn and surveyed their work proudly from the sidewalk. It looked like a group of Christmas-loving, bubble wrap-wielding, cooking enthusiast mummies had decided to have a rave party at 4 Privet Drive. Harry summed up the sight perfectly: "It's fantastic."

"We're only missing one thing." Before his godson could ask what he meant, Sirius pulled out a disposable camera from his robes. Remus turned Harry around and the older wizards looped their arms around his shoulders as Sirius snapped a picture of the three of them, their stupendous handiwork in the background. "That one will be a keeper," he remarked.

Harry laughed, his spirits high, every trace of unease from their location gone. "Thanks Padfoot, Moony. That was brilliant."

"I have to agree with you," Remus smiled. "I admit...I missed all the mischief we used to get up to."

Sirius feigned an expression of shock before turning to his godson with a smile. "It wouldn't have been the same without you, Prongslet. You're an important part of our family, after all."

A look of understanding entered Harry's green eyes. Something seemed to click inside of him at the moment that Sirius was struck by his own words. He wasn't alone. He had Remus. He had Harry. He was out of Azkaban, and he wouldn't let anyone take his loved ones away again.

Harry yawned and leaned his head against Sirius's shoulder drowsily, a satisfied grin on his lips. "I wish…we could see their reaction."

"Trust me," Sirius pet his godson's head affectionately. "I'm sure we'll be able to _hear_ it all the way from our house."

* * *

A/N: *pants* Whoo….that was a long one, guys. What's that saying about best laid plans? I had this chapter almost finished before my computer crashed and the entire file was corrupted. I had to start from scratch :( But, I still got something uploaded today, so Happy Birthday Harry!

Hopefully his birthday chapter won't be too late. I'd like to have it out in the next week, so look forward to that. I'm pretty stoked for it.

Thanks to everyone who sent me birthday wishes! They really brightened my day. I would also like to thank anyone who has recently added this story to their favorite/follow lists. An extra special hug to ActualWeeb, Guest #1, harry potter 1 fan 72o0o, Starrya47, Guest #2, David-El, vonny25, and Betty.S for their spectacular reviews!

See you all next time!


End file.
